Fall Through
by hittocerebattosai
Summary: HPxYYH Crossover. Have you ever wondered how Harry survived the Killing Curse? He didn't. KuronuexKurama or if you'd rather consider it, HarryxKurama, seeing as Harry IS Kuronue. Shounen ai. AU Fifth Year.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter did not like Number 4 Privet Drive. He hated it; he found it completely and utterly insufferable in fact. It wasn't the weather and it wasn't what it looked like that bothered him so much. It was the people, pure and simple. He loathed the people in the 'neat' and 'orderly' town, the 'nice' and 'upstanding' citizens. He hated the secrets the little clean town in Surrey held. From the outside it seemed almost… picturesque.

There was nothing ever out of place. It was an 'ideal' town. Nobody ever noticed the kid who was being picked on, the wife with the cheating husband, the bully making his rounds, nothing. They lived in their own dream world here.

A vibrant pair of Killing Curse green eyes curiously peered out of an iron bar covered window with an indistinguishable emotion in their depths. There were some days when he couldn't believe he was putting up with all the people in their pretty little houses and blindness. He was of the hardwon belief that everyone was blind. This wasn't a new belief, he had realized it back when he had been a very young child. Well, that would be if he had ever been a child in the first place. He tried to understand, and not let his ire run away from him, but he couldn't help it, people seemed so blind to him, and he doubted that belief would ever change. No matter how 'observant' the person could be, they had never _noticed_.

It was sometimes so frustrating… Their weak blindness, and strident refusal, to see what was going on right in front of their faces. It was something he really hated about humans. They never wanted to suspend their _belief_. He frowned and tapped his fingers on the windowsill. these humans were a particularly vexing group.

Grimacing, Harry leaned back and adjusted his bent glasses. Sorely wishing he could lash out with no lasting consequences for his actions. His lips twisted in a faint mockery of Professor Snape's sneer. He had no energy to pull it off. Not considering the circumstances.

When would he get out? Harry impatiently counted the days till school started again. He would rather sit, and spend the whole school year in any of Snape's potion classes, then stay here with his so called 'family'. At least all Snape did was use was his sharp tongue and issue detentions. Detentions weren't so bad comparatively.

The Dursleys had found a way around the threats. The Dursleys couldn't say that they hadn't complied with the demands made of them. They had still found a way to 'punish' him.

He rested his head against the windowpane in a fruitless search for relief from the pounding in his head. His act was starting to wear down… He couldn't take this much longer. He was getting tired of playing nice and just taking it. Leaving sounded so good.

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Harry had been staring at the wall with a listless expression since he had woken up that morning. He only had his memories for company, though the thought that he would only have a few more days in his own personal hell helped his mood a bit. He would get through it. He knew it and wouldn't allow otherwise. "I have all the luck don't I?" he murmured to himself.

He moved, sitting up with a fair bit of effort. The rules his family had to follow were actually pretty simple. No physical harm, though Harry guessed that the Order never thought of his mental health, no excessive work, and he had to be fed. They had also been advised to leave him alone in an effort to give him time to grieve. His smirk twisted to a frown and he almost felt like laughing at the irony. Almost. The Order was supposed to help him, not sign his death warrant. He hadn't left his room since summer had started and it was finally taking his toll and, although he had been fed, it was always the same thing every day. They'd probably bought a case or two of soup at the beginning of summer for sale or something similar. Harry was getting tired of chicken noodle.

Harry supposed he was lucky in a way. If he hadn't been so special he probably wouldn't have made it so far. He'd have died under their care..

Sometimes he really wished he had never _died_ in the first place.

"Boy!" the sharp bark caught Harry's attention faster than any other noise could ever hope to and the door swung in on its less than well oiled hinges. He shifted slightly but he didn't get up, even when he saw the expression on his uncles face.

"Get yourself presentable!" Vernon's bulky form stood in the doorway and the man's face twisted and wrinkled into a clear expression of hatred. The light filtered through behind him and into the dim room, illuminating Harry's weak form on the bed.

It was in situations like these that Harry liked to amuse himself with thoughts about theories on how the man could fit through his small doorway. Magic was a common hypothesis, and he had several theories with science-fictional twists.

Harry kept his attention on his thoughts and tried not to recoil at the man's presence.

"What are you doing, Boy?!" Vernon took a threatening step into the dark room.

"Move it!" and Harry moved, a hiding his dark scowl with his bangs and averted gaze.

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Kurama was playing hide and seek. From his outlook in his tree he vaguely wondered how the girls at his school would take it if they knew he was gay. He winced as what seemed like a hoard of girls passed below. It would just give them more ammunition.

He didn't bother looking up when Hiei joined him in his perch.

"You have a mission." Hiei was straight to the point, as always.

Kurama's somber leaf green eyes met Hiei's blood red pair just in time for him to catch a black tape that was thrown his way. "Thank you Hiei, will you be staying a while?" his tone was polite, as always and he spared Hiei an inquiring glance.

The answer was a short "No." before the fire apparition flickered away at his high speed leaving Kurama standing alone again on his now swaying branch.

The branch hadn't even stopped its mild swaying when a, "There he is!" from a single girl's shout caught everyone's attention. Oh, Inari-sama… His face swung in the girl's direction to see her pointing directly at him. Before he could think of what he was doing he was out of the tree and running. Instincts were really a wonderful thing to boast.

With the tape held securely in his hand and the bag over his shoulder he made quite a sight, darting between trees and out of the park with a gaggle of girls being left in his dust. He only slowed down once the park was far out of sight and the screams of 'Shuichi-kun' faded into the sound of the cars passing him by. It never hurt to be careful, especially when being stalked by such a rabid group. Why did he have a fanclub anyway?

Kurama made his way through the crowd, focusing on the tape in hand. He was almost the only one still in active service of the old group. Kuwabara only attended when Yusuke did, Yusuke was learning about his heritage in the Makai, and Hiei had to be pried away from the Maikai anyway. Hiei was good at evading attention.

In no time at all, Kurama was entering his home. He opened the front door and called out a greeting to his mother, smiling when he received an answer he headed up the staircase to his room. He greeted his younger step-brother when he passed the occupied room and upon entering his room he set his bag down in a corner next to his desk and put the tape in his VCR.

Koenma popped up on screen, his pacifier muffling his speech. "Kurama, I have a mission for you." The recording started to look a little nervous. "I know you won't like this, and I am sorry!" Kurama's eyebrow raised and he frowned when Koenma started chewing on his pacifier and wringing his hands in stress. "I have just received notice from my branch over in Europe." Kurama was getting a bad feeling about this.

The recording took a deep breath and mumbled about firing the people in charge over in Europe. Koenma seemed to steel himself and started to speak more clearly. "A soul that was to be brought in at all costs never was." Kurama nodded slightly and his interest spiked. "You are going to be going to England in a week," Kurama winced at that, how would he tell his mother? "To attend a Magical Boarding School. Your books will arrive tomorrow. I have already taken the liberty of sending one of my operatives in Japan's local Magic school an order on getting you some Transference Papers and another operative will be getting you up to date on what you need to know. He has a time turner; you will understand when he comes to get you."

Kurama frowned when Koenma continued on to speak of how long he should expect the mission to take, and he outright scowled when he heard that he would be expected to spend an extra year or two on the mission if he didn't retrieve the soul in his first year. A year. His hands clenched into fists when the tape ended and he stood up quickly, fully intending on giving Koenma a piece of his mind. He couldn't believe that Koenma expected him to leave his mother till he was sixteen or seventeen. It was an outrageous order, surely Koenma had other operatives who could fill the order, didn't he? Ones who weren't still living with their mother?

His heart was thundering in his ears and he got up quickly, leaving his bag on the floor and the tape in the VCR. He almost jumped down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and in his haste he nearly tripped over the umbrella stand next to the door. A furious scowl settled on his face and he slammed the stand back into it's place and shoved his feet into his shoes.

"Shuichi?" his mother's voice made him pause, "Shuichi? Where are you going? Dinners almost done." Kurama turned to see his mother coming into the hallway. She was probably disturbed by his sudden racket.

Pausing a moment to gather himself, Kurama smiled at his mother, "I am sorry, I have to go meet someone… I forgot. I will be home again soon." He smiled again and quickly left the house, leaving his smile and mother behind.

He was going to kill Koenma!

Several blocks, one portal, and a long series of twisting halls later Kurama was standing outside Koenma's door. "Ko-en-ma." He snarled, and was quite pleased to hear an 'eep' from inside.

Throwing the doors open he entered with a purposely intimidating flare, reveling in Koenma's cowered form. "_Koenma_."

"I'm SORRY! Very sorry! Insanely Sorry! SORRY! You are the only person who could do it!" Koenma was shielding his head with his arms and cowering in his seat.

"Why me? You have other professionals for infiltration and confiscation. Don't you?" He crossed his arms. His tone was carefully level, but had he been in his other form, his ears would have been laying flat against his skull as a testament to his anger.

The demi-god looked up searchingly. Deciding that he was not in physical danger he straightened his shirt and took a deep calming breath. "You are the only one with the right age and we need someone with mental shields." He crossed his arms and stood up in his swivel chair. "A lot of my operatives do not have mental shields, and the ones who do are too old. We need someone who can pass for a student."

He reached forward and pulled two files off the corner of his large desk. He looked at them with a frown before holding them out for Kurama to take. "These are the files of Tom Marvolio Riddle and Harry James Potter. Riddle is your target, although Potter should have been taken in as well. Nobody in the England sector is sure why Potter didn't die, but Riddle did. Riddle has been doubling the death rate of the citizens in Europe. Scotland and England have been hit the worst."

"What is he trying to do?" he took the files out of Koenma's hands and flipped open the one on Riddle.

"The ones who investigated the problem say he is trying to wipe out any 'muggles' and non-'purebloods' in their magical community. He seems to be killing off any 'purebloods' that defy him as well." Koenma was pinching the bridge of his nose.

Kurama sighed and shifted his weight, "What is a 'muggle', exactly?" He tangled his fingers into his hair. And why did he have to deal with it? He wanted to ask, even though he had already received an answer.

"A 'muggle' is a person who only has enough Reiki to live. They call it 'Magic'. We have schools here in Japan that teach 'Magic', and people like Yusuke and Kuwabara would be the people who attend." He leaned back and looked Kurama full on, "I know. Why didn't Yusuke, or Kuwabara, attend the schools?"

Kurama nodded and began looking through the papers in the file.

"At the time of enrollment, Yusuke had very little Reiki and Kuwabara only had his 'awareness'. Compaired to what they are now, they would have both been classified as 'squibs' or 'muggles' by the community. A 'squib' is a person who is born to parents who have high amounts Reiki while the child has only enough to live-like a 'muggle'." He elaborated.

There was a bout of silence and Kurama looked up, "And that is why Riddle is killing them off? Just because they don't have much Reiki?"

"It's something like that, though they have no concept of Reiki. The reason he uses is that they are different and would wipe out the 'Magical' community if they 'interbred'. He thinks it 'weakens' them."

Kurama looked down at the moving pictures in his hands. One file, the one he currently held open, had several pictures of a man, and although it was the same person in all of them, the photos looked very different. There were a few from childhood and a few from his school years and after his graduation. The most recent one was of a snake-like man with blood-red, slitted eyes and no nose or body hair. Tucking the folder and photographs under his arm, he started looking into the other.

There were a few pictures of Harry as a baby, always being held by an adult, followed by some photos from while he was growing up. He may have frowned when he saw the too thin frame and over large clothes, but he scowled when he saw the edges of bruises peeking out from his sleeves. The most recent was taken during school, a photograph of Harry sitting under a tree with his friends studying for exams. It was such a normal scene, so completely and utterly un-posed, that he couldn't suppress the faint smile tugging at his lips. The boy just looked way too cute!

"Riddle, or 'Voldemort' as he calls himself when he's commanding his 'Death Eaters', has been targeting that boy for several years. Harry Potter is the unfortunate victim of several plots. He has miraculously survived them all." He tapped his fingers on his chin before continuing, "In a fist to fist fight with a C- Class demon a 'Witch' or 'Wizard' would lose terribly, but their Reiki, when used like they have trained themselves to do, they could put up a fair fight and probably win. They are nowhere near as strong as Yusuke is, but their 'Magic' is both flexible and powerful. They can be dangerous. Harry there though…" Koenma gnawed on his pacifier a bit more violently, "His power is that of a B class demon… Maybe even a high B+ class. He is unusually powerful for a Wizard, and though it power-levels of that caliber have been known to happen, it is usually with Wizards twice his age. The scale of power for a Wizard usually varies between a low C class and a mid B class."

Kurama nodded, making a mental note on that, "What would 'Voldemort' be?"

"I believe he is somewhere around a mid A class, maybe even a little higher. He is a very dangerous man, I would advise you to be careful in your retrieval of him." He paused a moment, seemingly considering something, "You would have learned this tomorrow, but a 'Witch' or "Wizard' has a very flexible ability with their Reiki. They can do almost anything with the right word or the right sequence of words. And by anything, I mean, they can do something as harmless as making another person laugh or changing their hair color, to doing something as dangerous as causing pain so strong insanity can result within minutes and even a spell that will cause instant death. Not all 'Spells' can be blocked, so study hard and dodge the ones you know you can't block."

Kurama closed the second folder, of which its contents he had been examining the majority of the time Koenma had been speaking. Tucking them both under his arm he nodded at the demi-god. "Tomorrow, it is. See you later." He turned away and left the room quickly, leaving a very relieved deity behind.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry was sprawled out on the harsh mattress face down kicking his legs against the mattress roughly. He was bored, hungry, and he felt like he was going to go insane if he didn't get out of the house soon. The day before hadn't been pleasant for Harry. Not pleasant at all. He had done as he had been ordered. He had gotten dressed and hurried out of his room.

When he had arrived downstairs he had been very displeased to find that he was supposed to act as caterer to the Dursleys and their guest's whims. Not that he could do anything about it. He was in no situation to do anything about what his family would demand. He thought the reason he was in plain sight this time around was to keep a repeat of the previous offense from occurring. He doubted anything like Dobby would come again, but he guessed they thought it better to be safe than sorry.

He couldn't wait to leave! He kept up the pattern of kicking for lack of a better thing to do. He couldn't read his books, they were locked underneath the stairs for another lonely summer, nor could he talk to his owl. He had sent her off to the Weasley's when he had noticed the bars on his window. He refused to let her stay in her cage to waste away during the summer. He had no doubt that that would be the end result.

He couldn't do that to his dear Hedwig. He smirked slightly into the mattress and stilled in his movements. He was struck by a chord of amusement that weighed like a ton of bricks. An owl. Owl. Owls ate bats. He couldn't stifle the snickers that bubbled up unexpectedly. It just figured that he would try to befriend _two_ things that would eat bats. Fox and owl.

You see, Harry wasn't normal, though many would say you could never have called him 'normal' in the first place. He was a bat, a chimera of bat and human features, a demon.

Harry considered himself a good actor and he was fairly proud of his achievements. He had fooled everybody. He hid himself behind a mask of naivety and downplayed any act that would catch attention. If he hadn't been famous he would have been invisible, just like he had been in his muggle school. Although… when he had been going through his muggle schooling, he had never been expected to become someone who would be seen as a martyr.

The muggle children never expected him to be the one to stand up for all that was right. Quiet little Potter, he never plays and never talks, and his cousin calls him a freak. Pay him no mind, pay him no mind. He hadn't had that expectation heaped on his shoulders in his last life, either. No, they would have never expected him to be a martyr _then_. It was quite the opposite, in fact. He'd sooner be run from than be worshiped. No expectations.

He sat up quickly and grabbed himself the single flat pillow that had fallen off the side of the bed. As soon as he reached the pillow he threw himself down again, bringing it down on his head. He wanted to scream, run, jump, _fly. _Lifting up the corner of his pillow, he sighed and looked out the window. He was just itching to move and exhausted at the same time.

He let go and the pillow fell softly on his head again, and Harry quit moving. He missed his friend… Not Ron. Not Hermione. He missed his first friend, the Fox.

This life was boring, he decided. He wanted to go home. He missed being Kuronue, the Bat-thief extraordinaire. Green eyes fluttered shut and he drifted off to the dreams of his last life, all of them centered around a silver haired kitsune.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Dark and intelligent leaf green eyes tiredly followed the teacher as the man waved around his flimsy wand animatedly. The man was demonstrating a spell while the watcher sat in a chair with a book open on his lap.

"And that's how you do it." The professor stopped his jerky trek across the room and crossed his arms. His inquisitive stare was silently asking if the other person understood what had just been performed.

Kurama covered a yawn with a polite gesture and nodded. His eyes were drooping. Kurama supposed he was doing fairly well. He had nothing to do but memorize the course contents. He wasn't expected to do all the extra assignments as long as he could say what spell did what when asked in a review. Doing anything more was unrealistic. He was happy with the results so far, and he knew he was continually startling the tutor with his fast progress. He was more than just mediocre in Potions, with his affinity for some of the ingredients, and the prior dabbling with Makaian plants in medicine, and he did well in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Herbology. A person needed to have at least some ability to fight to use the defensive spells, seeing as the spells relied on more than just a person's magic. After all, why would a spell work if there were no intent behind it?

Herbology was another matter. He was a plant user. It was as simple as that. No explanations needed.

He had been working with his tutor for two months. Two whole months that spanned less than a week. He closed the book in his lap with a snap and stood up. With a quick nod to the teacher, he set it on the coffee table with the rest of his work books. It was time for him to go home.

Time turners were peculiar, he had decided while standing up and beginning to gather his possessions. His stuff wasn't much, just a few books that he absently slid into a rucksack. After shaking his bag slightly to settle the loose pencils on the bottom, he swung it over his shoulder. He bowed politely, and after a few words on what they would be covering later, he left, traversing the long bright halls.

His progress in his studies had reached to fourth year material. He was quite the lucky one. Kurama was gifted with a mind like a steel trap. What came in never could escape. He smiled slightly. He guessed it had to do with the fact that a single kitsune in his race could become one of the oldest creatures in existence if they stayed out of trouble.

Kurama, himself, had nearly reached 1000 years old. Then that fateful theft occurred, where his life had crashed down around him. His fist clenched tightly around the strap of his bag and sped up his pace as the memory nagged him. It wasn't a pleasant thing for him to remember. It seemed to keep popping up, no matter how deep he had been trying to bury it.

Kurama pushed open the glass and steel door only to be hit with the sharp smell of storms and wet concrete as he stepped out of the building. A rare summer storm had popped up, turning the sky a stormy mix of violets, blues, and grays. Gazing into the dark sky, all he could see for miles were heavy dark storm clouds that poured at a moment's notice. He doubted that it would wait to rain till he reached his home.

Every three to four weeks he got to go home to sleep, the rest of the time he had been spending in different rooms so he wouldn't run into himself. Apparently, it generally caused havoc when it happened. Paradoxes. He didn't particularly relish the thought of killing himself. Even if that wasn't the consequence, he doubted he could fit one hundred and twenty copies of himself into his bedroom over the course of only a few days.

His eyes passed over the many faces he passed by almost without seeing them. It wasn't till a voice yelled his name that he focused his attention.

"Kurama!" the voice called again.

Catching the fact that the voice came from behind him had him turning around as he searched the crowd, finding Yusuke almost immediately. The other teen was rudely and enthusiastically pushing through the crowd, seemingly delighted by the angry looks directed at his back by his unfortunate victims. A green and blue umbrella was haphazardly held in his hands and he sometimes used it to make his way through. The people who had been hit by it were throwing even darker glares than the others.

"There you are!" warm brown eyes were all Kurama could see for a moment before a strong arm crashed into his chest. He staggered back a few steps and was pulled around till he was facing forward and walking again.

Still slightly stunned by the overly enthusiastic greeting he nearly missed the feeling of Yusuke's arm dropping off his shoulder. "Yusuke?" he asked quietly, politely.

"Man… You look tired Kurama. Have you been sleeping alright?" his expression was one of concern.

"Hmm? Yes. I've been sleeping fine, Yusuke." He smiled reassuringly and dropped his shoulders slightly, trying to reinforce an innocent persona. It was true. He was. Mental exhaustion was a bit different than physical.

Apparently not believing him, but not willing to push him, Yusuke dropped the subject. The Fox could take care of himself, after all. "Where have you been lately, Kurama?" he asked, changing the subject, "I thought we were supposed to meet up at Keiko's restaurant yesterday. I mean I came back and everything to visit, and you were the only one who didn't come."

The rain started to fall in big fat drops and Yusuke made an almost comical expression of affront when one hit him in the nose.

Kurama covered up a laugh with a cough and smirk.

"Aww! Fine!" He opened the umbrella, nearly hitting Kurama in the head whilst doing so.

Ducking under it to join the discretely pouting detective he began speaking, "I've just been busy. I'm taking something of a summer course." He didn't even pause as he continued in a semi-lie, "It's just prep. I found out recently that I am going overseas for a year or two." He smiled cheerily, "It'll be fun. I've never been to Europe before."

A confused glance was shot his way. "Really? You're willing to be gone that long?" They took a left into a less populated stretch and continued walking, pushing through the dense crowds. He'd make it to his home no matter the route he took.

Kurama felt mildly irritated by the question, although it was easy to shake it off. That was because, quite frankly, he _wasn't_ all that willing to leave her for so long. It was really quite like Yusuke to blunder across the thing that was really needling him right off the bat. His personality really was perfectly reflected by his adorable blue spirit beast—no matter how hard he tried to hide it. He was almost too caring and perceptive.

He faintly pursed his lips for a moment, trying to formulate an answer. Deciding to wing it he tilted his head slightly, giving Yusuke a brief glance at his face. "I'm actually a bit worried about that," he answered honestly, relaxing slightly in the even pitter-patter of rain on their shared umbrella. "I think I'll miss it here."

"You'll miss us or your mom?" he seemed cheerful, teasing. He shifted his grip on the umbrella and nudged the other, pushing Kurama out into the rain for a second. Yusuke laughed at the _look_ thrown his way, "Either way, you will still be saying goodbye to Keiko and everybody, right? Keiko would _kill_ me if she knew that I knew you were going to leave."

Kurama nodded in affirmative and looked across the street. He'd have to cross it soon. His house was coming up. His home was down more in residential areas and this street reached far down into them. He knew where he was, it was only about a block further north and a few blocks west and he'd be home. Looking up almost longingly at the umbrella he answered, "Yeah, I expect that it'll be most everyone I'll miss. I admit, you've all grown on me in the years I've known you."

The conversation dwindled from there.

It wasn't very long before they had reached the end of the block and Kurama darted out from under the umbrella with a quick farewell. He didn't want to take Yusuke so far out of his way just so that he could get home dry. Although… being drenched to the bone in a matter of seconds wasn't a pleasant experience. He'd gotten too used to taking the easy life. A wry twist of his lips came with the thought. He really needed to spend more time out in the Makai. He was getting too soft from this easy life of his.

Kurama broke into a jog as he crossed the street with a small crowd and, before long, he was making his way up the walkway in front of his home. After greeting his mother, he was surprised to find her handing him a letter. He hadn't been expecting one, at least, not a letter that his mother wouldn't have burned at first sight.

His fan-girls were getting a little too forward.

After thanking her with a smile he wandered up the blue carpeted stairs and to his room, examining the letter speculatively. It was like a simple letter, though the paper was quite a bit thicker than norm. The green ink was unusual as well. It was addressed to 'Minamino Shuichi' and his address was scripted neatly on the envelope instead of typed.

He didn't sense anything unusual about the letter. He had gotten into the habit of scanning things for spells when he began to find out about how many wizarding things were hidden right underneath his nose. The Reiki used was so subtle, it would even be considered weak, but it sure got the job done. He worked his fingers up under the lip of the envelope and easily tore it open with a satisfying ripping noise.

He stretched out on top of his bed in a manner much like that of a cat, or in his case, lazy fox, and absently toed off his socks while he opened the letter. His brows furrowed slightly in a pensive look while he read the letter and he fiddled with his hair.

Heh. A welcome letter… He shook his head slightly, and pulled the cord on his lamp, turning it on. Stripping down to his boxers he called a good night down the hall, flipped off all the lights, and moved the letter off his pillow and onto his nightstand as he climbed in.

He hadn't expected a letter of welcome.

'_Dear Mr. Shuichi Minamino_

'_I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress. I would like to welcome you to our home, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...'_


	3. Chapter 3

The birds were atwitter, the sun was shining, and the storm from the night before was long gone. Kurama pulled up his blinds and opened his window to the morning. Wet earth emanated from his back yard and he could clearly smell his roses. It was nice, he reflected. Very nice and relaxing. He had been way too stressed lately, with all the studying he had been doing. He frowned slightly and stuck his head and shoulders out the windows where the slight breeze played with his hair and ran over his arms and shoulders. The least Koenma could have done was give him more time.

He was sure that he would miss his plants. He had created an impressive garden for his mother several years back. Daisies, roses, thyme... He even had grown her a few miniature trees and shrubs. Near a corner he had planted a sickly Cherry tree after his seventh year of living with his mother. Over the last several years it had grown and bloomed into a beautiful one-without his help.

He didn't particularly want to leave home. Much less did he want to go back to the building with the white everything. A puff of breeze ghosted over him and a few birds took flight. The last week had been exhausting.

Go a few hours, move to another room, flip back another few hours, go to another room, flip back, go, flip back, go... He even did it to get some sleep! Go to a room, flip back ten hours, sleep, and move on. He'd been in every room in the building at least twice! He had to admire the coordination, he hadn't seen himself even once.

He yawned a bit and quickly found himself having to spit out a mouthful of hair that the wind had playfully deposited into his mouth. After ducking back into his room he moved across the hardwood flooring to his desk. He moved a few papers off to the side and pulled out the two folders he had placed there sometime earlier that week. Bright green eyes stared intently at a book in the photo that was resting on top of one.

Kurama hadn't had much time to look over the folders in great detail, really. He'd been too busy. The first morning after he was given the mission, a man had come to his home around ten in the morning. The man, a person who he found out later was to be the teacher Koenma had stationed at the Japanese School of Magic, had interrupted him while he was in the middle of washing the dishes.

Kurama was still tired.

He snagged the cream colored folder and made himself comfortable on his bed. The information in parts was relatively general, he thought, flipping through the pristine pages. Age, date of birth, weight, height, current family, etc, though he was relatively sure that the 'number of hairs on head' was meant as a joke. There were a few places that were more detailed. One that caught his eye was the 'Physical Condition' page. It was a history of accidents and such. It didn't sit well with Kurama how the list was so unusually long.

Sharp green eyes continued their way down the page and he discarded it into a pile he was forming. A pattern of read and discard was quickly established. With the company of the chirping birds and the ruffling of paper Kurama quickly made his way through Harry's folder.

He sighed softly and watched the sunshine on his opposite wall. Harry sounded like he had had a rough life. His lips twisted in a sad parody of a smile and he reached for a pillow, wishing it were Kuronue instead. His knees were pulled halfway to his chest and his hair spilled messily on his pillow as he hugged said object. He wished that his mother was going to be late in making breakfast for once. He didn't want to leave his home. It was comforting, how his room was bathed in soft golden light.

Sooty eyelashes fell to his cheeks and he felt himself fall into a light doze.

It didn't feel like much longer when he heard his mother calling up the stairwell.

Kurama pulled himself out of his bed and found that he had to snap himself out of looking at it longingly. He couldn't help it, really. Berating himself silently for not getting dressed Kurama kicked himself into high gear, the manila folder somehow finding its way back to his desk with Harry's photo once more sitting on top.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

"Shuichi?" Shiori's voice interrupted the droning repetitive motions of the egg laden fork.

"Un?" startled, Kurama looked up at his mother. He couldn't help sitting up slightly and looking a little closer at her, noticing her unusually serious expression. "Yes mother?" The fork was once more on the plate and his full attention was focused on the woman he cared so much about. She was his saving light. She was his mother, just when he needed one.

She smiled, her eyes crinkling slightly in a weather worn look of love. She tucked the errant strand that always seemed to be escaping her behind her ear before speaking, "It's not that I don't want you to leave..." she absentmindedly brushed out the skirt of her apron and leaned a bit against the pale blue counter tops. "I just wonder why you are going so far away. You've been gone so often lately..."

Kurama found himself silently cursing the infantile deity that ordered the mission he was soon leaving for.

Shiori looked down, as if trying to stem an oncoming ramble. She reached up to tuck the already tucked strand of hair, "I mean... You've been coming home looking so tired."

Kurama had gotten out of his chair sometime during which she was speaking to wrap his arms around her shoulders in a gesture he knew she would appreciate a lot. He tightened his grip slightly, not enough to hurt her but enough for her to be able to feel the shift. He hadn't hugged her enough as a child, he reflected. Before the accident, he had shied away from most contact, thinking her an unworthy human. He probably would still think her unworthy if it weren't for the care that he could have documented, even before the accident. She had tried her best, even when his father had died, and that was enough for him. She deserved it.

"It is a boarding school, mother," he rested his head against hers in a soothing motion. "It will be a good experience." He felt distinctly guilty at the coming lie but didn't let it enter his tone, "I did not expect to get it, so I did not tell you till I knew for sure." His tone was smooth and his nimble fingers gently stroked her hair, "I am sorry," as if to amend the situation he continued with, "I promise to write you letters," in a slightly teasing lilt.

She laughed slightly at his tone, nodding.

She was the one to pull away, graciously letting her son get back to his breakfast. "What are you going to do there?" her feet made no sound as she made her way over to the sink where she busied herself with washing her dishes, if only to give her hands something to do.

The dark green eyes watched her dry a soft brown colored mug with a white and blue checkered dish towel, and place it in the cupboards over head. The very same cupboards that once played home to the plates that sent his mother to the hospital for the first time since his birth.

"It is a classical little boarding school in Scotland." He'd told the truth there, though he hadn't said how classical it was. Actually, he mused, maybe it was a bit too ancient for it to be considered classical. It would rather be considered Medieval. "I expect I will get to work on my English while I am there and..." he blinked, suddenly recalling the permission slip, "Ahh. There is a town called Hogsmeade. I will get to go visit it a bit. It is a pretty rural town."

The gentle tone answered with a soft, "That sounds nice," as she turned the handle on the faucet and watched the sudsy water swirl down the stainless steel drain.

Kurama nodded pushed his plate off to the side. With one hand he traced the patterns on the table and with the other he tangled his fingers in his, as of yet, un-brushed hair. Catching a glimpse of the clock he purposely yanked on his hair in a show of frustration. "I need you to sign a permission slip for my trips to Hogsmeade. I'll be back in a minute." Kurama slid off his chair and, uncaring of any creaky floor boards, he gracefully strode across the hardwood flooring and up the old stairs. His open shirt made a show of fluttering slightly behind him in the breeze of his fast stride.

Back in the kitchen Shiori couldn't help but wonder how she was blessed with such a kind and intelligent son.

Up the stairs was another matter entirely. Kurama couldn't help but wonder why such a wonderful woman had been cursed with such an undeserving son. She deserved better, of that it was certain, he decided while ruffling through the papers in his bag. Pulling out the slightly crumpled sheet of paper he set it on the desk next to the picture and started buttoning up his shirt and pulling on his blazer. He had twenty minutes to get down to the building so he needed to hurry a bit.

A comb was clenched between his teeth and the bag was slung over his shoulder when he hesitated in the doorway. After a bit of thought he snatched the photo of Harry off the desk and put the picture in his pocket. With an almost laugh he shook his head at his developing obsession.

He hadn't been this interested in a person since Kuronue, and he hadn't even met the boy yet.

The stairs creaking underfoot, he half jumped down the rest and took a sharp left to head back to the kitchen. His bag made a dull thump next to the counter and he fished out the permission slip, deftly handing it to his mother.

She looked over the simple form and nodded. "This seems simple enough…" she dug a pen out of the junk drawer and quickly signed her name in, in both uniform English script and Japanese kanji. Shiori laughed and handed the form back to her son, who received it with a soft smile. "I am lucky," she began, keeping her voice light, "that I still remember how to write my name in English, aren't I?"

Kurama just smiled at her before looking at the clock. With a quickly hidden wince he bid her a good day and headed for the door. He wasn't looking forward to where he was going. Magic wasn't fun. Not at all.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

It was the tapping at his window that brought Harry out of his daze. It was his thought, that if you didn't think about anything, time would pass faster. It wasn't necessarily true, but the effort of achieving something quite like meditation kept him busy, and busy was good.

It was his guess that how dirty his windows were what kept the owl from running into them. It might have been the fact that they were half open, too. With a loud creak from his mattress, Harry clambered off with the intent of opening the window just enough that the bird could get through. Feeling a tad sorry for the creature, he picked the tired owl up and carried him over to Hedwig's empty cage.

The owl was none other than Errol.

Nimble fingers from one hand gently stroked frayed feathers in a soothing and somewhat affectionate manner. He found that just seeing Errol made him miss his dear old Hedwig all the more. Harry's other hand awkwardly untied the letter that had been tied to the owls leg. With a quiet sound of triumph Harry pulled it out of the cage and set it on his rickety desk.

He could only guess that the letter had been tied on to prevent the owl from losing the letter. It would be very easy for such an old owl to drop it if startled by something.

The owl hooted softly when the other hand joined the first in stroking the grey feathers. Tracing over the delicate bones in the ancient owls wings, he smoothed the ruffled feathers. Errol looked so tired… With an apology at the lack of water, Harry found himself pulling the hidden floorboard up to reach for a battered water bottle.

The bottle was clear with a white cap and several dents. It had been one of Dudley's when his parents had been encouraging him to get out more. Harry had easily nicked it from the living room when nobody had been looking. Harry made a mental note to refill it soon, it was only half full.

After pouring a bit in the water dish, Harry finally diverted his attention to the letter innocently sitting on his desk.

The letter was decidedly simple. It was only a few sentences long.

'_Harry,_

'_Be there at noon. Dumbledore said you could come to Diagon Alley with us. Have all your stuff packed!_

'_Ron'_

Vague annoyance coupled with relief were the feelings that he recognized. He was annoyed that Ron hadn't thought to add anymore to the letter. The boy was supposed to be his _friend_ wasn't he? He hadn't heard from him in months and three sentences were all he got. It was disappointing. The fact that he would be leaving early was his only form of relief.

A grin crept its way onto his face. He was leaving, he was leaving! He looked at the clock. 7:32 am. What on earth had possessed him to think that getting up at 6:00 had been a good idea?

Leaving his window open to let the morning breeze in and to allow Errol an exit Harry made himself as comfortable as he could get on the springy mattress. Trying to sleep couldn't go awry, could it? He moved his head a bit and threw his right arm over his eyes to block the morning sunshine. It was times like this that made him dearly wish to be in his cave, or would he call it a den? Harry wondered. Cave versus den… He dismissed the idea, it didn't matter.

It was a stupid thought. He missed his partner, of course he did. Every day. Why did he have to die? He'd been so stupid! Harry pressed his arm against his face a bit harder, seeing waves of black in his already dark vision. Harry had made a bad choice—no, _Kuronue_ had made a bad choice, after all, he wasn't _really _Kuronue anymore, was he? Why had he gone after the locket? A spring of anguish bubbled up and he crushed it down mercilessly. He was over it. He had to be. Groaning out loud he rolled over and banged his head against the mattress.

"Happier times, happier times…" he mumbled to himself. Fifteen years and he still wasn't over leaving his one and only behind. This life, he mused, could only be his punishment for being so selfish and arrogant. He was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, figurehead of salvation. He was the icon of light.

Hah! That differed drastically from in his first time around. Kuronue, Bat-Thief extraordinaire! Being a bandit had been rough but it had been _his_ life and he had loved it. The adrenalin rush had been exhilarating, especially when he had had Youko Kurama by his side.

Thinking about Kurama left him wondering about their cave, den, whatever. How was it now that they were not there? Had someone tried to loot it? He knew that Kurama wasn't still there. Around his tenth birthday Harry had tried to go back. He hadn't gotten very far before he found out that Kurama had died shortly after he had.

He should have been there! Neither of them should have died. Of all the stupid and selfish things he could have done, he went back after a stupid necklace.

Kurama had been a very beautiful demon, in a masculine sort of way. Silver hair, gold eyes, and a height of seven-two, (217 cm) he was very beautiful indeed.

It wasn't long before the steady sound of his own heartbeat and the memories of Kurama mixed and he slipped off to slumber. It wasn't long till a nasal screech woke him up, either.

Nary two hours later found Harry craned over the gas stove in the kitchen.

His good behavior catering the night before must have brought this on. They must have missed his cooking. He hadn't been out of his room, except for using the bathroom of course, since the start of summer.

Eggs, bacon, and hash browns were cooking at one under his skillful eye. He still remembered back when he couldn't even cook to save his life. He smirked and absentmindedly tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. Fruit had been his friend.

"Boy!" Vernon barked imperiously, "Hurry it up! I don't have all day!"

With a quiet, "Yes sir," Harry focused on the temperature dials and went to re-center the pan he was cooking eggs in. He just barely stifled a yelp as his fingers came in contact with hot metal. According to the muffled snickers he could hear behind him, he hadn't stifled it well enough. Where had his grace gone?

With a silent huff of despair he ignored the burn and continued working diligently. He could already tell that this was going to be a _long_ day. Three hours to go.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hiei?" Kurama mumbled quietly and paused in the middle of the sidewalk. He could sense the small fire demon nearby. He frowned in confusion slightly and clutched his bag a little tighter. Why was Hiei so close? This was a surprise. A visit? he thought Hiei had gone back to the Maikai after he dropped off the tape. He knew he wasn't about to be called in to join in a new mission. He already had one lined up, thanks. Kurama continued down the street, in Hiei's direction, at a slightly faster pace.

The park was a few streets away. It was just a bit off course. He was sure that he could make it to the building on time. What could he want? He couldn't help the blooming curiosity. It was a foxes curse, he supposed. He really was as curious as all the myths and legends played him out to be.

He felt himself welcomed by the plants in the park. They weren't really sentient, but they welcomed him all the same. They greeted him like they greeted the sun.

He felt the presence strengthen behind him and Hiei announced his appearance with a quiet clearing of his throat.

"Yes, Hiei?" he turned around to greet the smaller demon with a smile. At least this time he wasn't giving his location away to his fans. Kurama wasn't all powerful. He knew that if Hiei didn't want him to know exactly where he was, he would never find him.

Hiei looked as well as he always did. He didn't seem to be suffering any ill effects from the humid summer weather. He was decked out in full cloak and didn't seem even the slightest flushed. It likely had something to do with being a fire demon. He was more resistant to the heat.

"Where were you?" the question was blunt. Hiei wasn't the kind of person to waste on petty words and Kurama knew it well. The only person Kurama had seen him waste words on was Kuwabara, and he was sure that was the only exception.

"What do you mean?" he twisted his voice to sound mildly confused and looked directly at the fire demon. Maybe he wouldn't see though his bluff?

"_Fox_." The reprimand cut his hopes short.

With an internal huff of annoyance, Kurama tried to think of what he could say. Swiftly deciding to keep it as simple as possible and as close to the truth as he could, Kurama took a moment to think. He'd already told Yusuke that he had been studying for a trip, hadn't he?

"I am studying for a trip," he brushed his bangs out of his eyes as he spoke, a habit he never could suspend. He paused a moment and shrugged, elaboration never hurt. "Koenma should have told you. I am going to England." He looked past the smaller demon. The exit of the park was looking _so_ inviting suddenly.

Hiei was still standing there, as if a disapproving look would make him spill his heart out. The blood red eyes were accusing. Kurama mused that it was probably an unintentional expression. Hiei, more often than not, had the same accusing look on his face, even when speaking to Yukina.

Had Hiei been looking for him? Wait. Yusuke had said that everyone but Kurama had come to the meet at Keiko's yesterday. Had Hiei come as well? They didn't visit much anymore.

He took a deep breath and launched into his explanation, "I have been studying for a mission for Koenma. It has been... taxing, and has taken every spare moment I have had. I will be gone a year," he signed, "maybe even two. I will likely be back for summer because I will be attending a boarding school. I am not looking forward to it."

Hiei shifted his weight and backed off a bit. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning. I am almost done with the prep work. I will be visiting with Yusuke and Keiko this evening if you want to talk?" he glanced down at his watch and winced, "I am running late, Hiei, so if you will excuse me…"

Hiei nodded and disappeared in a black blur.

Trying to put the incident out of his mind, Kurama broke into a smooth jog. It wouldn't do to be late and run the chance of running into himself.

Soon enough he was past the gates and back on the cement sidewalk. It was still early enough in the day that the air wasn't too hot and heavy. It was a typical summer in the part of Japan that he resided. It was gradually cooling, day by day, as fall grew closer but the weather was by no means what he would have really considered comfortable.

Kurama loved spring. It wasn't just the weather that made it so nice. Spring was the catalyst for new life; budding flowers, young animals, _new_. Fall was a close second, even if it was the time where everything died.

Warm cement pushed against his shoes and the zephyr was tugging at his clothes and hair with grasping hands. Kurama found that physical exertion was something that calmed him. It had been a fail safe way to calm him down all through his first childhood and second.

The streets weren't as busy as the night before. There was little chance that he would accidentally run into someone. His eyes caught sight of the last corner before the homestretch to the white building. Kurama frankly, had no idea what else to call it. It was just _white_. He had found that he could either see through something or it was just a wall of white. The only things _not_ white were the stainless steel fixtures, like the water fountain and the door.

Kurama grasped the handle of the door and checked his watch. He had been late but he wasn't now. His jogging made up for it, and it was now two minutes before the hour.

Kurama stepped inside. His shoes squeaked slightly against the white tile underfoot while he crossed the entry. He ignored the unoccupied check in desk and started climbing up the stairs. He only had a few more books to process and them he would be visiting Yusuke and catching the plane the next morning.

One, two, three, four… Kurama counted the unlabelled doors in the hallway till he reached the right one. Takanori-sensei would be in the eighth one on the left hand side to start today. It was actually Takanori's personal office, though they cycled through it just like the rest of the rooms. Kurama pushed it open and felt the resistance of carpet against the door. Takanori-sensei's rug had undoubtedly gotten too close to the door again.

Takanori-sensei was sitting on a warm and comfortable light blue couch. His reading glasses were slipping down his nose and he looked half asleep. At the sound of the door opening he mustered up a white toothed grin and marked his page.

"Welcome back, Shuichi." He made a motion to get out of his seat on the couch, but Kurama waved him off. Kurama had fallen into a comfortable groove with the teacher. They got along pretty well, which was good with all the time they had spent together over the last... long while.

"No need, sensei. I will just get my books," Kurama gestured to the pile that was on a neat desk. Picking out a few books from the pile on the desk, Kurama walked across the area rug and sat in an adjacent love seat. His backpack came off his shoulder to drop on the other side of the small couch and he set the books in his lap.

"You just have those three books left to get through?" Takanori inquired quietly. Curiously he leaned forward to get a better view of the titles. The speed that Kurama had gotten through the coursework so far was astounding. Really, truly, astounding.

"It is four, actually. One is still in my bag."

Takanori just shook his head and pulled his attention away from the striking downcast eyes. "Do you have your passport?" his wandering fingers found their way to an errant synthetic couch fiber.

"Yes, I do. It was sitting on my desk when I got home last Tuesday."

"Aah." Takanori couldn't think of anything more to say.

The silence stretched on for several minutes while Kurama studied and his teacher fetched a book off the shelf and some paperwork out of a drawer. They didn't really have anything else to do, yet. Takanori would quiz him in another hour.

"Takanori-sensei?" Kurama broke the silence.

"Aah?" the spirit-employee looked up at his name.

Kurama set his current textbook—Standard Book of Spells by _Miranda Goshawk_—aside. "I have found something fascinating in these textbooks. The books talk about 'gindylows', 'vampires', and 'werewolves'. They are like demons, are they not?"

"Hmm?" he asked unintelligibly. "I haven't thought of it. They've been around longer than I have been working." He made a come-hither motion towards the leather bound textbook. Kurama handed the book over and sat back in his seat. "Hmm…" he flipped through the pages looking at the pages Kurama had brought up.

"I think that gindylows should have been classified as demons," Kurama was blunt. Demons had been mostly driven out of the human world-the Ningenkai-around the time he had been born. They had been completely driven out by the time Kuronue had been 200. He wondered why this breed had been left behind. Had humans deemed them manageable and left it at that? The text stated that the creature actually did kill people…

"Yes, I agree with you." Takanori seemed pensive as he flipped the smooth and thick pages. The paper made miniscule whooshing noises, much like the sounds made by distant wings of a bird. Kurama watched the honey-auburn hair flip and glide around Takanori's contemplative expression. "I think werewolves were left behind because they were originally human," Takanori suddenly flipped subjects.

An arched eyebrow was Kurama's only reaction to the diversion.

Takanori snapped the text shut and leaned on the arm of the couch to get a more direct view of Kurama's face. "I think grindylows were probably left behind because of how predictable their actions were. I'm just going out on a limb here, but…"

"They use the same method of attack every time?" it was a half attempt at finishing the other man's sentence.

"Exactly," The spirit-employee nodded derisively. "Apparently, the same attack has worked on them for over a hundred years."

"Grindylows must not adapt well…" he could hardly believe that a species wouldn't get wiped out if it didn't change its tactics even a little. It was a strange thought. Everything progressed by change. Anything that didn't change was gradually left behind in the dust. It was almost like something had been protecting the species.

"They are good at hiding I hear, and they live mostly away from humans. Humans don't like them, but they don't hate them enough to hunt them into instinction, I believe. muggles don't run into them much, and wizards are more than capable of driving them off."

"So, vampires are like werewolves? Most vampires were originally human."

"That is right."

Kurama looked at the titles over titles of the other books lying next to his leg. They were both on Herbology, Flesh-Eating Trees of the World and One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. They both appealed to his sense as a fox-spirit that was so deeply affiliated with plant life. The humans had a cousin of his Death Tree? It was an entertaining thought.

He preferred to ignore the copy of Defensive Magical Theory that was lying neglected in his bag. Wilbert Slinkhard's books put even ever-education-loving_ Shuichi_ asleep.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

The sound of the doorbell button came as a god-send for Harry. He had fixed breakfast and had only gotten a nasty glare and a snarl for all his troubles. He had, however, gotten a plaster for his burnt finger before he was sent back to his room. The Dursleys reminded him more of untamed farmyard animals by the day.

Harry was leaning against the window and had seen Arthur Weasley's blurred hair disappear out of sight under the porch eaves of Number 4 Private Drive.

The sound of the front door swinging open was prelude to one Vernon Dursley huffing and puffing up like the big bad wolf from children's stories.

A roar of, "What are _you_ doing here?" echoed up the stairwell and Harry took it as his cue to start grabbing his personal belongings. On the corner of his ratty old broken desk was his treasured photo album and invisibility cloak. He was pretty sure that he shouldn't treasure the photo album the way he did, but it was the sentiment behind it that he felt so touching. Hagrid had gone out of his way to put together something that the half-giant thought he would like. It was really touching. Not many showed such caring in the Makai or even around Surrey.

Kuronue had only had three people to show such caring and two of those hadn't even really been his in the beginning. One had been Youko Kurama and the other two had been Lily and James Potter.

The door slammed, and the sounds of his uncle's snarls and Arthur's platitudes came closer. Although he could listen in to their conversation, Harry felt no need to. He had a feeling of what the conversation was about. Why strain his ears when he had no need?

The floorboards creaked under his soft footed gait across the room. The boards were in need of a repair but they would never get fixed. Harry didn't bother to turn on the light when he started folding the liquid-like material of his invisibility cloak over the contents of the loose floorboard. He only left his water bottle and a few other 'summer time' items discreetly hidden in the hidey-hole.

Harry clutched the bundle close to his chest with his left arm-as if it were a priceless bauble he had gained on one of his thefts-and plucked his glasses off the center of his desk. He had almost forgotten the bent monstrosities. They didn't really help anymore. His vision had changed much since he had gotten the pair.

The doubled footsteps and stomps were right at his door and Harry could hear the tumblers fall as his door was unlocked, lock by lock.

The door swung out and Harry was greeted with the sight of Vernon's burgundy face and Arthur's serious expression.

"Err…" Harry started, as if trying to figure a way into explaining why he was standing in his doorway. "Hello Mr. Weasley. Nice to see you again?" He was Harry now, not Kuronue, not a hybrid. He was classic old stalling Harry Potter, completely unassuming and a sheep in ill-fitting lions clothing.

"Hello Harry," Mr. Weasley looked rather relieved as Vernon stormed over to the end of the Hall. Vernon didn't trust them to be alone. "Let's get your stuff, shall we?" He poked his head in the barren room and looked around for a non-existent trunk. "Where is it?" Tired looking blue eyes looked into Harry's shadowy emerald.

"It's under the stairs, Mr. Weasley," Harry quietly informed him while taking a few steps out of his room to join his friend's father in the hallway.

"How can you use it there?" Arthur swung the door shut and walked ahead of Harry to the stairwell.

"Err…" '_you can't_' Harry sarcastically answered in his mind. Sometimes a non-answer was better option. Mr. Weasley was his ticket out of Surrey for the Summer.

Creak, creak, creak went the stairs underfoot. "Right. _Alohomora_." Arthur rounded the bronze and stained wood banister and pointed his want at the cupboard. He was ignorant of the way Vernon Dursley puffed up like a puffer fish about to blow. The door swung open at the spell and Arthur pointed his wand at the trunk. "_Reducio_. Say goodbye to your uncle and lets go, Harry." He pocketed the miniscule trunk and opened the front door for them to leave.

Harry glared at his Uncle, "Goodbye, Uncle Vernon," his posture was rigid as he quickly swept out the front door.

A quick apparition later, Harry was standing in front of the Burrow with Arthur Weasley. The customary hustle and bustle of the home was present and he could hear Ginny yelling about a missing shoe. His appearance was quickly noted as he was ushered in by the Weasley brood. As much as he hated to admit it, Harry did agree with Draco Malfoy that the Weasley family had a few too many children—not that he'd have it any other way.

Arthur Weasley unobtrusively made his way up the stairs.

"Harry!" Ron was at his side and towering over Harry's slight frame as soon as he got in the front door.

"Err… Hello Ron," he backed away a few steps. He had every right to be miffed didn't he? Three months of no letters! He looked up at the open freckled face of one Ronald Billius Weasley.

"How are you, mate?" he looked a bit shifty and nervous.

"You didn't write me." Blunt and no-nonsense. He clutched his right hand in a reflexive fist, but let go quickly at the smarting pain of his burn. His left arm was still tightly grasping his invisibility cloak parcel.

Ron looked down in shame and his ears turned a vibrant shade of fire-engine red. "Dumbledore said it wasn't safe…" he mumbled quietly.

"What would they do, _Ronald_? Follow the owl?" he snapped back. It wasn't right that Ron, would let people dictate his life so completely. Shouldn't his loyalty be to him, not Dumbledore?

"Sorry Ha—" Ron was cut off by Hermione's enthusiastic greeting.

"Hi Harry!" she rushed down the stairs like a rambunctious toddler with a grin pasted on her face. "How was your summer so far? Were the Dursleys okay? Did you get your homework done? Have you gotten your booklist yet?" Her tumbled curls spilled over her shoulders and her eyes were sparkling cheerfully.

"Hey! Not so fast Hermione! One question at a time! One question at a time!" his hands were up in a warding gesture. "You'd know if you mailed me."

She seemed to deflate at that. "But Harry-"

"I know. Ron told me."

The air was heavy for a moment before Molly Weasley broke in. "Alright, kids. Get going, get going. We need to get down to Diagon Alley today!" She made large shooing gestures at her children with a determined look in her eye. The brood plus Hermione rushed up the stairs.

"Hello, Harry dear."

"Hello Mrs. Weasley," Harry smiled. The plump red haired woman greeted him affectionately.

She brushed his shaggy hair behind his ear and tutted. "Looks like you need a haircut."

Harry just shook his head, undoing her gesture. "No, I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley. It's better this way." He paused a moment and looked up the rickety stairs. "Err… Mrs. Weasley? I'm going to go up to see Ron, okay?" he started his journey up the stairs and left Molly Weasley to shake her head in disappointment and leave the entry way.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Harry had left Hermione looking at the cat products and Ron at the owl in Magical Menagerie. Harry himself was hidden in the back looking though less noticed things. He had already promised not to leave without them for safeties sake.

Harry was actually hoping to find a snake to talk to, though he knew the chance that he would find one was slim. He muffled a snicker with a discreet cough. Foxes and snakes, hooray. Both could kill him. Harry lifted up the corner of a black cloth that was over a cage. Snakes weren't stunning conversationalists, but they would do. Hearing anything from the perspective of such a naturally different creature was always and interesting experience.

It wasn't a snake. Harry jerked back and dropped the cover back over the cage when it hissed. It was a mottled lime green, bog green, and brown lizard with fish-scales here and there. It was a true-blue eyesore.

"Harry! Harry, where are you?" Hermione's voice cut above the crowd and noise. The Magical Menagerie was crowded as always, perhaps even more so because the first day of school was coming up so quickly.

"Over here!" He shouted as loud as he could, returning the favor. He cringed slightly and rubbed his throat, thinking that it hadn't been the best move he could have made.

"Come to the front door!" Hermione's voice cut over again, "We still need to go to the Apothecary!"

Harry started on the tedious job of getting through the crowd.

All hail! Sunlight! Harry finally pushed his way all of the way through the crowd and reached for the sun, taking a deep breath of the outside air. The sun was shining, the people were scurrying, Ron and Hermione were staring… Wait… Staring? "Ron? Hermione?"

"Nothing Harry. Nothing. Come on. Let's go." She huffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

Ron chose not to say anything, and the trio made their way down the market street.

A few stores later the Apothecary popped up with a clearly labeled, if a bit old, sign and a few mostly closed off windows.

"Come on!" She hurried inside and Harry and Ron reluctantly followed. Ron reluctantly because he didn't like the smell, and Harry, because the smell made him a tad dizzy. The Apothecary was a strange place. It smelt awful and ingredients hung from every available surface, even the ceiling. The man who manned the counter was a rather dreary and scruffy person. He looked completely at ease in his environment. Despite the stores less than stellar appearance, Harry knew everything worked well.

All in all, it was a fairly fast affair. Harry kept his attention on a collection of teeth that were hanging on a rope from the ceiling while Hermione negotiated with the shopkeeper on getting the potions kits refilled and updated for the coming year. He just had to dig out the required payment and hand it over.

"Err… Do you want to go to Florean's?" Harry asked as Hermione handed over the sickles, galleons, and knuts. "I'll pay." He added at Ron's longing expression.

"Sure Harry!"

"That'd be great, mate!"

Harry frowned momentarily, "Do you know where Ginny is? I wanted to know what you guys have been up to over the summer…"

"I think she's at Madam Malkin's." Ron shrugged and started walking. "I think I saw her there with Mum, before we went in the Menagerie."

"I think I saw her there too," Hermione chipped in, falling into stride at Harry's left.

Harry just nodded and started scanning the crowd for a spark of red hair. Ginny was a sweet girl, really. He didn't get to talk to her much but he knew that much. He was certain that she would be the one to talk to about what was recently going-on. She had a good eye for what was happening around her. The Chamber of Secrets fiasco had made her more weary and observant.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was shining, the people were bustling, and Harry was comfortably sitting on a stool in front of a banana split. Hermione and Ginny sat across from him and Ron was sitting at his side. It was a comfortable arrangement. As of so far, their conversation had mostly centered on what each had done over the summer. Hermione had gone out of the country again, to Spain this time, and Ron had been getting in fights with his brothers and flying in the backyard when not de-gnoming the grounds.

Ginny had apparently been using some of the Weasley-Twins' jokes back on the twins. It had been amusing how startled Ron was to hear of her escapades. His jaw had been hanging open like a goldfish and his eyes were just as wide as one too. Apparently, the twins had been experimenting with a prank to manipulate hair. They had nearly made Ginny bald.

The Weasley children had also brought up something strange about their parents. Apparently, they were taking to leaving at strange hours. They hadn't been given explanation as to why, yet.

"Yeah, just yesterday I got up to get a drink of water and nobody was home," Ginny was leaning on the tabletop taking bites of her ice cream in between sentences. She was eating a flavor that was apparently very similar to black licorice.

"I've 'erd 'em leavin' a 'ew times," Ron mumbled through his spoon, earning himself a scolding from Hermione.

"Ron! Take your spoon out and swallow before you talk!"

"Bu' 'Mione!" came the feeble protest.

"Ron! Take it out!"

Harry found himself having to hide a smile at their antics. Ron and Hermione made pretty good friends. Harry was pretty sure, even though he had almost no one to measure them up against.

Harry's mood sobered at a passing thought. "Have either of you heard from Snuffles lately?"

Ginny's confused uttering of "Snuffles?" was the only odd one out of the chorus of 'no'.

Harry sighed; he hadn't received any news of Sirius through the summer either. He knew it was understandably worrying. He had gotten used to getting a letter from some faraway place every once a month or so. The man was like a puppy at times. Harry could really picture himself becoming friends with the man if he ever got the time to get to know him. As it was, Sirius Black had become a support beam. He was the only man Harry could talk flat out to without worrying that what he was saying would be taken the wrong way. It also helped that everyone apparently thought that Azkaban had knocked more than a few screws loose.

"Who is Snuffles, Harry?" Ginny's tone was almost a whine. Harry was momentarily startled to realize that she didn't know who they were talking about. They had never gotten around to telling her.

"Just someone we met the year before last, Gin," Ron placated.

"Err… He is a friend of Professor Lupin," Harry added. If Ron was going to misdirect her, then so was he. Harry had a feeling that Ron would get angry with him otherwise. The boy was too protective for his own good when it came to Ginny.

Ginny just furrowed her brows in a confused expression in response.

Realizing that he hadn't answered with the best response, Harry thought up a lie quickly. "I met him while I was doing the one-on-one sessions last year." It wasn't a very good lie.

"Oh… You never told me…" Ginny looked down at her ice-cream and everyone else at the table sagged slightly in relief. She usually wasn't one to take answers without question.

"We just didn't think it was important, Ginny." Hermione gave Ginny a one armed hug and proceeded to wave at someone behind Harry and Ron.

Curious, Harry turned around to look. "Oh! Hello Mr. Weasley!" He easily spotted his friends' father's red head bobbing through the crowd in their direction.

A few moments later Arthur Weasley made it into range. "Hello kids!" he greeted warmly as he stepped up the stairs in front of the ice-cream parlor. Only five creaky footsteps and he was standing at a standstill next to Harry's right shoulder. He was smiling serenely, although the tired look in his eyes hadn't let up any at all.

He just seemed… old to Harry. Just old. Too old and too weary for whatever he was doing to make him seem such a way.

"Did something happen, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione asked curiously, too curiously for her own good, it seemed.

Arthur Weasley frowned in response and sharply shook his head. "No, it's nothing. Pack up kiddos, we need to go."

Harry and Ron shared a look over the man's sudden brusqueness before scooting back their chairs and standing up, although Ron did this with a grumbled complaint. Not failing to grab his ice-cream before they left.

Harry left his but not before spearing one of the bananas to munch on. He drew comfort from the familiar food. It reminded him of when he had been a young child in the Makai, back when his mother had still been around to protect him. It also reminded him of a primary teacher he had once had… She was one of the few welcome memories from his childhood as the 'freakish' Potter boy. He left the three scoops of vanilla ice-cream in the bowl. The sugary ice-cream had been upsetting his stomach anyway.

Soup wasn't the best thing to be eating everyday for lunch and dinner for three months. Harry's lips twitched slightly, nearly forming a frown. Harry tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear and watched Ginny run her ice-cream bowl to the trash.

It was time to go.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

"So I am done?"

"Yes."

"Thank Inari," Kurama said aloud. He was sitting at a desk, and had he been any less of a collected person; he would have quite bonelessly slumped over the top. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the tiled ceiling, running his slender fingers through his bangs and over his head to the base of his ponytail.

All over. Completely, utterly, done.

Kurama wouldn't lie—though he was very good at doing so—being done with all the testing and studying was something he had been eagerly looking forward to for 'weeks'. He knew he was good at remembering things. It had been the fault of that skill, coupled with his abilities in blending in with others that had been the catalyst for his election for this particular mission. But Kurama swore silently to himself with grim determination, he would _never _let himself get pushed into something that would require posing as a student _ever _again. _Ever_.

Kurama shook his head harshly, as if to solidify his decision. He flinched as a few strands whacked his face quite sharply. Nearly got his eyes, there…

Takanori was across the room by the time Kurama looked at him again. Books were leisurely being stacked in a magical trunk to get shipped back to wherever he had gotten them. Book Land, perhaps? One hand held back his auburn bangs and the other adjusted his glasses as he stood up with a sigh.

Kurama couldn't help watching as Takanori stretched his back. Takanori wasn't an overly muscular person. He looked more like a scholar than anything, but that was what had caught his fleeting attention. He wasn't attracted to Takanori, by any means, no. He reminded him of someone else.

For a moment he could see a slender bodied man turned back to bare his teeth in a fanged grin, his eyes shadowed by a broken hat balanced over two pointed ears and his long black hair spilling over his shoulders.

_Inari_, he missed Kuronue. Sixteen years wasn't enough. Not near enough. Time didn't make the pain lessen any.

At this point he doubted that it ever would. With all the distraction in the last few years, his focus on Kuronue's death hadn't been deterred in the least.

Kuronue was still the most important person in his life. Even if that person was dead and gone. Kuronue had been such a playful person, like a child who would never grow up. Just thinking of his antics brought a sad smile to Kurama's face. Kuronue had been his unbending support through all their years together. The support had never weakened; it had only broken the day Kuronue had died. Never bent, only broken.

They had been like an old married couple, Kurama had thought once in his human childhood. Not the old arguing type, but the serene ones who could talk without words.

Just a head tilt, a smirk, and the message had been sent.

Kurama was harshly brought back to the present by the loud bang of a slammed chest lid.

Time to go. Kurama got to his feet and stuffed a few of the more interesting books, namely the Herbology ones, in his bag and headed for the door. He only stopped once to give a farewell to Takanori before he pulled open the door and headed out for his limited freedom, not even an hour past when he entered it. His mother would be happy to see him back so soon. He hadn't expected to be finished so late. They had used the time turner more than just a few times, with all the review and quizzing he had gone through.

He had to pack as soon as he got back, and then he had Yusuke to visit today, didn't he? Then that long plane ride.

Kurama quickly descended the stairs; his feet squeaking with every step, and pushed open the glass door. A soft blast of warm wind immediately buffeted him. It was a comfortable warmth.

Kurama looked around before stepping fully outside. It wasn't as busy out as it had been the last few times he had left the building. He was leaving earlier, and that was probably the cause. Men and women, girls and boys, cars, bicycles, and motorcycles dotted the street sporadically.

Kurama broke into a slow and even jog down the street. He was going to run his bag home and then pack what he needed before he would head down to The Yukimura's Diner. He had a feeling that that was where they would all be meeting up. He could vaguely remember talking about it much earlier this break and Yusuke had reminded him a while ago.

Before long he was past the park and on to the home stretch. Just a little further and he took a sharp right onto his family's walkway. Up the stairs and through the front door, Kurama called out a slightly breathless and cheerful 'I'm home!' before heading up the stairs and to his room. He dropped the bag next to his desk and glanced at the mirror.

He pulled a shrunken trunk out of his bag, closed his door, and unshrunk it in his bed. His packing went smoothly, he packed some of his casual clothes, none of his uniforms, and all of his sleepwear, undergarments, and other essentials. He then shrunk the trunk and placed it in his carry on suitcase and packed more casual clothes around it.

He shoved in a bag of rice crackers for the plane and zipped it shut. Done.

He put the suitcase next to his desk and did a quick check in the mirror. Unwrinkled shirt? Check. Clean pants? Check. Neat hair? No check.

Kurama reached for a comb and pulled the hair tie out, wincing as more than a few strands of hair came with it. He quickly parted it in two halves and combed the tangles from bottom up before pulling it back again and reusing the hair tie.

Off to the Ramen Diner, now.

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"You made it!" Yusuke's voice cut over the low din of the crowd as Kurama stepped through the door. Yusuke was sitting on a bar stool clad in a chefs hat and dishwashers' apron. A few people stopped eating their meals and looked up to see the cause of the distraction.

The din quelled slightly before sparking up again with more fervor. Slightly annoyed at suddenly being an object of attention at his entrance, Kurama harshly squished his immediate reaction and plastered a smile and wave onto his persona. Now he just had to get over to Yusuke, who was smirking like nobody's business. It just figured that this would be the way Yusuke would tease him. By _Inari,_ he was popular enough at school!

It was time to suck it up and get over with it. It wasn't a new sentiment of his, disliking to be put forward for attention. Over the years since he had become human, the thrill from the attention he had garnered in his years as a thief in the Makai had lost their charm.

The space between the tables was an uncomfortable margin, he realized as he weaved his way between them and to Yusuke's side. It was wide enough to get through, but narrow enough that he found himself occasionally brushing by people's chairs, arms, and long hair. The layout in The Yukimura's Ramen Diner was a simple one. There was a glass door half hidden behind cloth blinds outside, and the sunshine streamed through the glass windows all up front when the blinds were pulled up. There were comfortably cozy booths lined up against two of the three available walls and round tables occupied the rest of the floor space. The bar was up at front, where the orders were taken, and near a discreet door that lead up to the Yukimura's living quarters was an open doorway that lead to the kitchen.

It as simple and effective, but that didn't make the distance between occupied chairs any easier to navigate.

"Hello Yusuke," Kurama greeted, once he had gotten to the other's side. He was welcomed by a cheerful smirk, if a smirk could ever be classified as 'cheerful'. "Am I early?" he asked. Yusuke hadn't given him a specific time to come, so he could be early. He looked around and couldn't see anyone else.

"Jus' a bit. Kuwabara's in the bathroom, an' Shizuru and Keiko are upstairs." Yusuke hiked up an eyebrow over his warm chocolate brown eyes and pointed up at the ceiling. He was still smirking a little, but it didn't seem to be out of anything but good cheer. "I—" Yusuke was cut off when he started to speak by the arrival of Kuwabara.

"Ura—" Kuwabara poked his head out the residential door and cut off what he was saying when he saw Kurama. Kurama waved slightly in a quiet greeting. "Kurama! I didn't know you were coming!"

"Of _course_ he was, _Kuwabara_!" Kurama's attention quickly shifted back to the other teen. Yusuke was scowling darkly at his friend. "I told ya last_ week_."

"I don't remember you telling me _nothing_!" and the argument started to Kurama's slight exasperation and the customers' worry.

"I _did_ tell ya!" Yusuke retaliated by jumping off his stool, thereby knocking his ridiculous hat askew. He was itching for a fight. Kurama quickly intervened. He prevented Yusuke from getting up in Kuwabara's face to and starting a potential fist-fight with a distracting question. After all, it wouldn't do to have a fight in the Yukimura's Diner, they were kindly hosting the party.

"Yusuke… Are we staying down here?" it was a simple question, but it easily caught Yusuke's attention.

Before Kurama knew it he had been hustled up the stairs and into the Yukimura's living room. The subject change was a success.

The time flew by quickly, while they were waiting for the others to arrive, much to his relief. The time spent waiting for the others was filled by a recounting of the mission Kurama had missed.

It might explain why Hiei had come looking for him.

The recounting was more amusing than the assignment had been, with Kuwabara and Yusuke's bickering over the facts. Kurama found himself muffling a laugh over who 'got the bad-guy' and what happened to Hiei, the only fact that Yusuke and Kuwabara could agree on.

Kurama couldn't see how anybody could ever mistake Hiei for a girl. Even if they were a bit shy of any intelligence.

The only other fact that Yusuke and Kuwabara found themselves agreeing on was that it had been what should have been a relatively easy retrieval mission. Their target had been a low-class youkai that had been involved in a string of serial murders. Kurama probably would have been sadder over how many had died before Yusuke's team was sent out if he hadn't gotten so used to death.

He was sad to have missed it. It was the fact that he wouldn't be seeing them much that made him regret it. He had two years to look forward to in Scotland, and he was sure he would much rather stay in Japan. Kurama could confidently say that out of everyone he now knew, he would most definitely miss Yusuke the most. Over the few years he had gotten to know the boy he had begun to consider him an irreplaceable friend. For all Yusuke's punk-ish looks really was a kindhearted and perceptive person. That is, when it really counted. Kurama couldn't even begin to count the social blunders the black haired detective had made in his presence.

At least he was honest when making those blunders.

Before he knew it the party was in full swing. The upper story of the Yukimura's Diner was comfortably full with Kurama's comrades and close acquaintances. Shizuru and her brother were energetically competing in a racing game on Keiko's game system and Yusuke was sitting near him cheering Shizuru on. Snacks were happily scattered around the room, victims of a short-lived food fight between Yusuke and Kuwabara. Keiko had joined in the food fight, actually. Keiko had been on Kuwabara's side during the 'fight'. It was Kurama's guess that she blamed Yusuke for starting it.

Kurama himself, at the moment, happened to be comfortably seated between the couch and the coffee table eating rice crackers and pretzels. He made a brief sound of acknowledgment when Yusuke dropped down on the couch next to him.

"Hey… Kurama?" Yusuke started off, catching Kurama's attention. He was looking too curious for his own good. It was clearly reflected in his face.

Kurama looked up and studied Yusuke's expression for a second before slowly answering, "Yes, Yusuke?" His brows furrowed slightly and he sat up slightly straighter.

"Where did you say you were going?" he leaned across the couch, as if to get a better look at Kurama's face. Almost as if he were looking for lies. It troubled Kurama slightly, not that he'd admit it out loud.

On the other hand, he also looked like a pleading puppy, begging for a bone.

A smile entered his voice at the thought. "I am starting off in London, England, and then I will be staying at a castle in Scotland."

"A castle?" Yusuke gripped the couch cushions in his hands. "That seems fun…" he added a bit belatedly at Kurama's amused expression.

"Yes, a castle. I will be attending school there for a mission." It wasn't a lie. Kurama hoped Yusuke wouldn't be interested in asking what classes he would be taking. As it was, Yusuke's expression had soured at the mention of it being a school.

Yusuke huffed despondently, "School? You're taking classes in a _castle_?"

Kurama shook his head and reached for a pair of rice crackers. "Yes, I will be attending classes at the castle. I will be living there till summer, when I should be coming back home." He ripped open the plastic wrapper and carefully pulled out one of the crackers.

Yusuke made a very audible groan at the thought of attending classes. "Wait. Mission?"

"Yes, Koenma is sending me undercover on a search and retrieval mission."

"And it will take almost a year?" the disbelief was clear in Yusuke's voice.

"Possibly longer than that, if I can't find my target within the year."

Yusuke leaned forward, "If you can't find your target in a school?"

Shaking his head Kurama answered, "No, actually, he's hiding elsewhere in the country, but he targets one of the students and has been attacking him every year for the last few years, so I might be able to find him through his target."

"Wow. That sounds chancy."

"I don't really want to go but Koenma insists. If nothing else it will be busy and tricky to pull off. It's a boarding school so I will be sharing a dorm room with a few of my classmates. I will be living on campus."

"England and then Scotland, huh." Yusuke shook his head.

"Whoa, Kurama, England?" Kuwabara entered the conversation abruptly. "Man, I wish I were you right now," he added when their attention shifted to him. With some difficulty he shoved Yusuke aside and bonelessly plopped down on the corner of the couch. "I've always wanted to go to some part of England!"

"No shit, Kuwabara!" Yusuke rolled his eyes and Kuwabara glared in reply.

"You really hit the jackpot, Kurama."

Kurama shook his head and finally took a bite out of his cracker.

"When will you be back?" Shizuru's drawl interrupted their conversation.

"I'll be back from the beginning of June to the end of August." Kurama twisted in his little nook to direct his reply back to the chain smoker.

"That's good, a' least." Kuwabara nodded with his words.

"I thought you weren't allowed out of the country." Keiko finally joined the conversation. She had been busy shutting down the game system and turning off the TV.

"Koenma bent some rules I guess. I talked to him about it a week ago." Or rather, Koenma informed him of it a week ago. If this hadn't been a mission, Kurama sincerely doubted he would have ever made it out of the country. Not in this lifetime, at least.

Keiko nodded. "You still are on probation, aren't you?"

Surprised that Keiko remembered that, Kurama hesitated a moment before nodding, "Yes. I still am on probation."

"What about missions around here? Will you be coming back for them?"

"No, this is going to be a long one."

"Oh, well, I hope that it goes well."

It only took him a moment to find a clock, and quickly found that was proudly announcing that it was going on nine o'clock. He sat back up straight and mentioned that he needed to be going soon. After all, he had a plane to catch in the morning.

A chorus of 'don't forget to write us', 'see you next year', 'see you later', and 'goodbye' prefaced his exit. He left with promises to write at least once a month and to send pictures or souvenirs.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Kurama had fallen asleep as soon as he had gotten home. It seemed like an early time to fall asleep, but he had more than enough reason for it.

It was four in the morning and his alarm clock had just gone off. Kurama awoke with a startled groan of protest and glared at the blaring clock. Static-y Japanese rock music poured out of it ruining the early morning silence. Reaching out, he pushed the alarm set button and laid still. Being human came with being lazy, though he never much liked getting up early when he was still 'Youko' Kurama.

About a minute later he began to move again. He propped himself up on his right elbow and rubbed his left hand over his face in an attempt to remove his hair from his mouth. It tasted like his conditioner. Suffice to say, it didn't taste nice at all. Kurama looked at the clock again, belatedly realizing that he had to actually be _on_ the airplane in less than an hour and a half.

Kurama almost groaned out loud and hurried out of his bed. He had to be at the airport shortly, he only had time to grab a bite to eat and get dressed. All of his luggage had been packed away the night before by his mother. He had been a bit surprised that she had done it. He had expected to have been needed to help, but she did it all on her own.

Kurama pulled a pair of his most comfortable jeans off the back of his desk chair and one of his older white button-up shirts to wear. It was going to be a long flight and he wanted to be comfortable. Leaving his shirt untucked and half unbuttoned, he ran his comb through his hair carefully. Pulling out hair was a painful thing to do with a comb when there was _long_ hair involved. Long hair didn't just magically become untangled when a comb was near it.

Setting down the comb and heading out of his room, he turned the corner and quickly walked down the stairs, his sock-clad feet thumping with every step. His mother was bound to already be up. She was the one who had told him that she would drive him to the airport. He appreciated it. He would have gotten up a lot earlier if he were taking the bus.

"Good morning, Shuichi," Kurama could hear his mother smiling as she greeted him.

"Good morning, mother," he returned in kind, allowing her to pull him into a brief hug which he returned in kind. "What are we…?" Kurama trailed off in what he was saying when he looked over his mother's shoulder. He could see green tea sitting on the counter with steamed rice, nori, and a few other simple things.

"I thought you'd like having a nice Japanese breakfast before you leave." She smiled serenely, "I don't think you will be having much food like this in Scotland."

Surprised by her thoughtfulness, Kurama felt a wash of affection for the woman who brought him into the human world as her son.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or YYH, nor anything affiliated with them. Sorry. I wish I did.

Jade: At the moment, I am wondering what kind of mammoth this will be. ' I haven't even gotten past the first month of this story and it is going to span two years at the least. Eek. With my planning this chapter was supposed to be the end of chapter four, not the start of chapter six. --' Ah well, I hope you guys will enjoy this, no matter how long or short or .:shrugs: this happens to be.

Oh, and keep asking questions in your reviews, they are helping me develop the idea for this more. (Psst! Ask about Voldy! I'm a bit stuck there! Explaing to others helps me develop plot!!)

If you don't have this on alert, at least **bookmark** this so you can find it again, 'kay?

If any of you guys are wondering why this took so long… Homework, projects, exams, essays, long running computer errors (I can't play any thing that is animated or has to do with music or my computer will crash), reinstalling everything I had on my computer, prior engagements, the last part of this chapter, lack of inspiration, and lack of drive. Oh, and I got distracted by reading stuff, again, on top of re-writing/writing, _"Angel of Fire, Demon of Ice", "Magokoro", "Witness", "Reality", "Desperation", _and "_Lost Spirit"._

_…my apologies._

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**Chapter Six **

It was a comfortable enough looking airplane. The seats were a soft looking grey and black color and it seemed very clean. He thought that they probably took harsh cleaning supplies to it in-between flights, but he couldn't be sure. He had never manned a plane before.

Kurama had walked up the middle of the aisle way carefully avoiding loose elbows and a few harried passengers while looking for a seat. He had spot his next to a window and he had quickly made his way over and sat in the chair in a calculated movement, removing his carry on from over his shoulder and to a temporary seat between his feet. The seats were more or less comfortable. He hadn't thought that he would have too many problems dealing with the long flight.

According to the flight scheduling, he would be in for a twenty hour flight. Not a thing he had been looking forward to but had prepared for, nonetheless. He had packed a few books in his bag, all of different types and that textbook he had wanted to look at, and a few other miscellaneous items (his rice crackers for one) too. His other supplies were safely stored in his trunk, which was shrunk and put in one of his suitcases in the belly of the airplane. His trip had been set up through Azumano Airlines; he had heard it was a reputable one, so he wasn't too worried about the fate of any of his stuff, either.

Kurama had been getting along well with his surroundings while the rest of the passengers lethargically filed in until she had sat down beside him. An uncomfortable feeling settled over his shoulders in a dark shroud. He sifted a bit in place.

This wasn't a good first try at flying, he was sure. Kurama's belief that the flight would be almost unbearably long was proven correct. The plane had just gotten into the air and his main curse was that, all, and he meant _all,_through lift off, the girl who had sat next to him had been whimpering and clinging to his arm like he was her only god to save her from an impending crash. For Inari's sake! The wheels hadn't even been drawn up off the cement and he hadn't said a word to her, either!

He pitied the poor soul who had to have sat next to her on the way in from where ever she came from. It really wasn't a pleasant experience. She was way too close, and the closeness hadn't even been on his terms! The only people he allowed that close were this mother, Yusuke (whom he had only allowed after getting used to his personality. He did have a debt to pay back, after all, and he was becoming a very good friend), and Kuronue, before _he_ had died.

Kurama shook his head. He had just realized exactly _how_ many times he had used Inari's name. It made him thankful that the religion Shintoism belonged to had no 'Thou shalt not speak His name in vain' rule.

Kurama sent up a small apology to Inari for all the times he had used his name in vain through out the day before trying the shrug her off. It didn't work. Pulling with a bit more strength, but not enough to be suspicious, he pulled back and into the back of his seat, putting pressure on the part of her arm that was now stuck between him and his seat. He was fairly certain, by the way her eyes were opening in bewilderment that she was _starting_to get the point through her mind. _"Do you mind?" _he growled at her in Japanese, feeling irked at her clinging.

By the look on her face and the tightening of her arms around his upper arm, he gathered that she hadn't even tried to understand what he was saying. What had she thought he had said? 'Cling all the closer'? 'I shall protect you forevermore'? 'We're going to crash'?

Had his vulpine ears been on his person, they would have been flat in distaste. Jerking a little more violently and causing a pained groan to seep from his fabric, plastic, and metal seat he dislodged her arms and shot her a daring glare. He didn't know her and surely didn't want to.

Physically dismissing her presence with a show body language that loudly proclaimed that she didn't exist, Kurama nudged his bag pit from under his seat. She sat looking at all the like a kicked puppy, a pitiful hang dog expression on her face. Good thing he didn't much care for dogs anyway. Round dull blue orbs were shadowed by her bleached hair and Kurama was secure in the fact that he felt no pity.

His bag was just where he had placed it during lift off, and pulled out shuffling around in the bag for a moment to pick out the right item his hands gripped an obviously old book in a newer looking book-sleeve.

Opening it and setting it on his lap tried to focus on the smudged writing. It was another Herbology book, somewhat like the one he had been using during the lessons, but older and full of a more diverse range of magical plants.

He had just been getting into the book when a loud creak sounded from in front of him. With a clicky whoosh the seat in front of him laboriously creaked down.

Not ten minutes later the seats occupant started snoring. It wasn't just any kind of snoring. No. It was the deafening sound if a train horn. Resigned, he frowned and looked back to his book.

It had taken some time but he had found some reprieve from the ill flight. Sleep. It was as simple as that. His bag cuddled protectively to his chest like a lost lover, he had fallen asleep eleven hours into the flight. He had actually managed to make it through his Herbology textbook _and_ his Defense text, as well as several of his rice crackers and two water bottles. He'd only hit the halfway point in a sci-fi novel Shizuka had recommended.

Waling up to his row-mate's not-so-gentle prodding and an uncomfortably full bladder, he was haltingly informed that the plane was going to be landing in either fifteen or fifty minutes. He wasn't entirely certain as she had phrased it as 'ju go ju' and there was no such thing as fifteen-ten or ten-fifty.

Peering at his watch he decided that it was probably closer to fifteen minutes until touchdown if the flight was on schedule and he found himself seriously debating on whether or not he wanted to get up to use the bathroom or not.

He found he didn't have the chance to pursue it any further.

…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…

"Professor…?" He looked at the woman before him, slightly surprised that she was the same height as he. A long dark grey cloak that was barely passable as a coat swept overwhelmingly over her shoulders and down past her calves and a ratty umbrella was tucked under her arm.

"You must be Shuichi Minamino?" Kind but hard and intelligent brown eyes peered out from behind a curly mane of graying hair. 1

"Yes," he said, trying his best to ignore the mispronunciation of his name. 'Sue-ichy Min-ah-min-oh'. He wasn't impressed. Nonetheless, he bowed slightly in greeting, looking at the woman with a slightly befuddled expression, finding himself distracted by her clothing. Did all European witches dress as she did?

"I am Professor Sprout, nice to meet you. Now come along, come along. Grab your things, let's get you to your room for the night," she waved at the large unwieldy black suitcase by his left foot and his black carry on.

Nodding at her directions, Kurama bent down and caught the strap of his carry on and hooked his fingers around the handle of suitcase. He was not surprised as she made furtive motions with her hands for him to hurry up. She looked uncomfortable in the muggle crowd and quite out of place.

"What class do you teach, professor?" Kurama gripped the plastic handle firmly and started heading towards the exit.

"Not that way, Mister Minamino…" she directed him, "I'll answer any questions you have in a jiffy, but I just need…" her face tilted as she searched for something.

"Professor?"

"Ah," she clapped her hands in triumph, "that will do." She took off abruptly, leading Kurama to a partially secluded corner behind a potted plant and by the bathrooms.

Kurama eyed the bathroom door longingly but never got a chance to mention it before her hand gripped his arm, pressed the ratty umbrella to his hand and mumbled a soft and unintelligible phrase.

A sharp tug on his navel and the world swirled away. Kurama barely managed to keep his footing when they were deposited in a gusty whoosh of displaced air and magic.

"Now then!" Professor Sprout's voice was all too cheerful after the sickening lurch from the airport to where ever they were now. Where were they anyway? Kurama didn't know. There had been no warning.

"Professor?" Kurama's emerald green eyes darted around efficiently cataloguing his surroundings like only a long term bandit-thief of his caliber and age could. His muscles were tense and he felt suddenly out of his element. Witches and wizards of every shape, size, and make were bustling around paying the Japanese boy and Hogwarts professor no mind.

His mind was already whirring with possibilities for his mission, now that he had and idea for the terrain. This wasn't a pleasure trip and he wouldn't try to fool himself into thinking so.

Diagon Alley was cluttered and loud. His eyes resting on the shreds of newspaper and trash lying around, he realized that he had gotten too accustomed to his homes cleanliness. The Makai had been worse than here in some parts, though, particularly in the cities. Despite the clutter, or maybe in spite of it, the ambience of the roadway was very… Nice. The sun was descending in the sky. It wasn't colorful. The clouds were splattered across the sky and it seemed to him almost something out of a mystery novel, or some sci-fi book.

Kurama had the feeling that he may need to set up some form of surveillance in this area, but he'd have to scout it out later… after she was gone. He predicted a good late night wandering around in his future.

The professor looked immeasurably more comfortable than Kurama, although the alertness from the airport still clung to her.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley!" She seemed proud in her declaration. Kurama couldn't really see the reason.

Tuning around to face him she continued speaking, "Do you still remember the content of the letter Mi-" she cut herself off with a shake of her head, "_Professor_ McGonagall Owled you?"

Twisting his lips in a slight frown, Kurama thought back to what seemed like months ago. He _had_ received a welcome letter and he felt it prudent to assume that that letter was the one she was referring to. It had been the only one and it had been fairly rudimentary. It was a simple welcoming with a vague overview of the grading system and class choices. Tagged near the end of the letter had been directions on what to do on his arrival.

They hadn't been overly clear to begin with.

"Yes, I remember." He paused a moment, recalling something that confused him in the letter. Was there really such a thing as a Platform nine and three quarters? No station in any nation he knew of had such a thing. He knew—he had looked. He had even gone so far as to ask Takanori, but he hadn't known either.

She nodded at that. "This is your first time in our community, right Mister Minamino?"

She seemed to tense minutely, though Kurama saw nothing in the teeming crowd of gaily and dourly robed witches and wizards.

Pulling on his best and most unassuming smile, he nodded. Opening his mouth to ask one of his many questions, he found himself closing it prematurely as Professor Sprout clapped her hands together and rambled on while not-so-discretely heading him into an alleyway that ended in a sooty red brick wall.

"Where…?" Kurama managed to ask, beginning to feel frustrated. He knew, logically, that by the way she was behaving that she felt that there was some reason to fear for his safety, but why was she herding him around like some lamb? He didn't like having decisions taken out of his hands. He would prefer it if she'd just answer his questions and direct him to the 'Leaky Cauldron'.

"I'm sorry. I'm in a bit of a hurry…" She made a good show of looking contrite. Sprout stopped at the end of the alley way and pulled out her wand. She paused and turned to face him, "This is the back entrance to the Leaky Cauldron." She patted the wall almost fondly, "We've gotten special permission from the owner for you to use this way."

Kurama looked up the wall seeing plain old and worn—weathered brick towering up about two stories. Over the top of the wall he could see a building.

Perhaps it was because Diagon Alley was an enchanted place… he doubted he would be able to get over the top of the wall if he tried. Shifting his attention back to the present, Kurama watched as the professor started counting under her breath. Two steps and a 'whish' of a wand through air later, her golden brown wand— oak if his eyes weren't deceiving him—rapped in a careful pattern on the bricks with a 'rat-tat-tat'.

…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…

The bed was comfortable. Probably more comfortable than it was supposed to be, and for that Kurama was grateful. He was talking a momentary reprieve from everything. "The plane ride wasn't nearly enough…" He mumbled to himself. Feeling heavy, he rolled over and nearly off the bed.

The Leakey Cauldrons' rooms were very homely, in an old and out dated way. Worn wooden floor boards covered by stately but dusty area rugs with tasseled trims, heavy and solid bed frames, tables, cabinetry, it was nice in a very… European way. He recalled having some furniture made in a similar style in a safe house he has shared with Kuronue, once upon a time.

Kurama rolled a little further and landed with a loud thump on his hands and feet. His head swam at the movement, and then things were right again.

It wasn't the time, it wasn't the time. He shook his head and threw the poppy red hair behind his shoulders in a visible show of restlessness. His lungs expanded with a deep breath of air and he blinked several times, clearing the blur.

This was a mission. He had things to do. He couldn't just laze around and think about Kuronue all day.

Kurama ran his hand through his hair, methodically checking the different types of seeds he had stored among the red strands while slowly making his way to the door. Pausing only to grab his fuchsia blazer, an alternative of his uniform at home, he walked out of the room and down the hallway. His key tucked neatly in his pocket and his wand secured to his arm.

The floorboards creaked underfoot comfortably. Not too loud and in a homely way. His fingertips trailed over the wooden railings as he walked down the stairs leaving a minuscule plant behind to spread out its vines in threadlike tendrils. He would collect its flower on the way back to his room.

It was a useful plant that he had found in a forest in the Makai. He had searched it out after it had been used against him a few years—decades, but what did it really matter?—prior.

…That was one escapade he really didn't want to remember.

The name for the plant didn't translate into other languages well, but he supposed the name would be something like the 'Flower Glass' in reference to 'mystical' looking glasses. The flower reflected the area around its vines in a type of camouflage. Sometimes the effect worked in the plants favor, sometimes not. One of the few Ningenkai flowers he could liken it to was the Angels Trumpet, but it was always wide open and not half as deep and the tips hooked in a pinwheel-like fashion.

It was pretty in an unconventional manner, but he digressed... It did its job and it w as small enough not to be readily noticed by the casual observer.

Slipping through the crowded pub without his usual sense of ease, for he was supposed to be an awkward teenager who didn't realize he was surrounded by enemies, Kurama headed out the back door.

It was early in the evening and the weather outside reflected it. The pre-Hogwarts bustle had thinned down to a stream that was easier to travel and easier to spot potential threats in. That was not to say that he could see _everybody_ clearly, but it helped. The lack of the earlier crowds was a coupling of relief and worry. It hadn't even hit six yet. Did the shops in this country close a lot earlier than the ones he was used to at home?

If he couldn't get all he needed to done tonight, then his plans, as sketchy as they were, would have to be postponed until morning. He found it impossible to muster a doubt that the witches and wizards had magical security systems. Wards maybe? He remembered reading about them.

Stepping up the pace he headed out. His first stop would be the bank. He needed to exchange his Japanese 'yen' for those odd 'Gallons, Sickles, and Knuts' that the wizards in this country used. Then, after that he wanted to sweep by the pet store, to look, and the apocathary. He thought that he might need to restock, though not my much. His main intention was to put another one of his flowers in place. The 'art' of potion-making was one that easily lent itself over to the 'darker' side of magic. Untraceable poisons, potions prime for surreptitious deeds… No doubt, places like the apocrathary would bring in 'Death Eaters'.

He had spent hundreds of years in the Makai and the cities there closely mirrored Ningenkai cities. It was almost a given that Diagon Ally had such a place.

One place Kurama _didn't_ need to go was to Olivanders. Japan's magical population was much smaller than Europe's and it had only been around for a few hundred years. In fact… most of Japan's magical population consisted of people with mixed blood. It wasn't that Europeans were inherently_ stronger—_it was just that most people with high Reiki tended to work in small shrines or didn't want to give up or postpone their education.

Kurama's wand was tailored specifically for him and his Reiki. Or, at least, his version of it. Some days his Youki far exceeded his bodies lingering Reiki. Takanori sensei had informed him that it was a very uncommon practice in the European countries. The smaller population allowed for such extravagances.

Despite his worry that the shops might be closing soon, the building structures caught his attention. Each store front was uniquely tailored to the wares and services they supplied. It seemed like they had been specifically designed for the illiterate, not that that was _bad_. Each was bright and unmistakable. It was quite elementary, but nice, almost cute. He could easily see himself growing to like this part of Europe, not as distinctive as Rome or Venice but unique.

His feet hit the cracked stone work underfoot and the zephyr played with his hair as his eyes searched for 'Gringotts'. First stop, first stop… but really, Gallons? The street seemed to open up before long. The buildings getting progressively less eye-catching as a large marble structure appeared in view, overriding them.

Stifling as smirk as his senses started screaming 'Treasure!' he passed through the waning crowd and up the steps.

…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…---…

(1) I honestly have no idea what Prof. Sprout looks like. She's always seemed to me like a somewhat homely but professional woman, and I don't remember any reference made to her in any particularity in the books…

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	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or YYH, nor anything affiliated with them. Sorry. I wish I did.

Jade: Just remember that this is **AU fifth year ** and that means that **everything that occurs in the fifth book and beyond are under my jurisdiction and up for me to twist and contort as I like**. I don't like that book, and honestly? I read through the whole book in less than ten hours and never touched it again. T.T It was torture. I spent the majority of the time I was reading that itching to hit Harry for his behavior or stuffing my head under a pillow and trying not to scream because I had a best friend and a _four-year-old_ sleeping next to me. Suffice to say, I didn't go to sleep that night. It was the night it came out, too.

**Chapter Seven**

Molly and Arthur Weasley looked up at the ceiling, pausing mid-conversation. A shout of 'honestly' followed their pause as well as a yelp from their youngest son.

Arthur laughed quietly under his breath while his wife furrowed her eyebrows and tried to fight off a smile. "Glad to see the dear all energetic," Molly looked at her husband fondly, who was now looking up with a pensive expression.

"Hmm? Harry?" he looked at his wife intently. He looked worn and tired, lines framed his eyes and his thinning hair shifting a little more blond than red every day.

"Yes, the poor dear has been so quiet..." she moved closer to her spouse and laid a hand on his arm.

He turned to place a quick consoling kiss on her cheek. "It's probably an after effect from the Goblet of Fire. He did see a classmate die."

Scowling she snapped, "Those muggles probably didn't help matters either!"

"They looked like they had been taking care of him..." At his wives rebuking look he quickly amended, "Physically, I mean!"

Harry had looked alright when he had come to pick him up. Not _good_ but alright, and mayhap a tad thinner, although that was probably the effect of those horrendously baggy clothes. How muggles considered it a fashion was beyond his admittedly lacking understanding. The boy had been waiting at his door for Merlin's sake, his belongings in hand.

"Awful muggles, just awful. Why he couldn't have had relatives like Hermione's I'll never know." Molly fussed under her breath. Rounding her husbands side she walked into the kitchen where a dish cleaning spell had nearly run it's course.

She was almost tempted to postpone dinner, just to have him around longer...

…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…

"Honestly Ron! I thought you'd have more sense!"

Harry was sitting on his friend's Chuddly Cannon bedspread in his eye burning orange room, glaring at said friend. Hermione was getting into the scolding, if the projectiles were to be taken into consideration.

"Ow! Hermione!" Ron groused, shielding his head from a broken quill. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"I wasn't tying to pick up your sister! I d—" Harry caught himself, "I've known her since I was eleven! I'm not interested!"

"I said I didn't mean that!" Ron moved his hands from shielding his face to wrench on his short red hair out in frustration.

"Let's just drop it," Harry groaned, running his hands down his face in exasperation. This argument was going no-where and it was on a subject he wasn't comfortable discussing with them, to boot!

"Seriously Ron!" Hermione threw another projectile—this time a dirty sock. "Now you're making it seem like Harry is gay!"

"I said _drop it_!" Harry squawked, adrenalin spiking at the mention. They didn't need to know, they _really_ didn't need to know!

They both jerked back in shock at the unexpected shout.

"But Harry…"

Harry looked around for an escape, muttering out loud, "It doesn't matter, Ginny is like a little sister to me." Harry looked back as a question sprang to mind, "Hey, where am I going to sleep? Nobody's told me yet."

Ron and Hermione traded indecipherable looks and about the time Hermione started with, "Well…" Ron cut in.

"Sorry mate, you're only staying here for dinner. Dumbledore said that it wasn't—"

"_Professor _Dumbledore said that you were going to go somewhere safe."

Harry was struck dumb for a moment, the rejection stinging. Wasn't he supposed to stay? It was just over night! Harry was about to open his mouth, a protest on his lips when Ron jumped in again. "Yeah, with a _dog_."

"_Snuffles_?!" elation bloomed and Harry leaned forward, clenching the bedspread in his fists tightly, almost to the point of tearing. "_Snuffles_ will be there?"

Yeah! Mind you, I've only been up there once." Ron muttered crossly.

The very picture of righteous indignation Hermione huffed in reply, "Well, I haven't." She tucked a frizzy lock of hair behind her ear. "Mrs. Weasley said it was dangerous." Her tone was conversational, "She said that she might let us go next year—"

"Ginny wasn't allowed to go at all," Ron cut her off abruptly, leaning closer to his friend and cupping his mouth with his hand in mock-confidentiality, "and Snuffles stayed as, well, _Snuffles. _The whole time I was there."

Interest sparked Harry started fishing, "What's it like?" a simple question first.

Rin scratched his head through his copper orange hair. "Well…"

"Out with it Ron!" Hermione prodded not-so-gently.

Flustered, Ron snapped back, "I am! It's err…" he trailed off at a loss. "Erm… Dark? It's really gloomy and depressing and there is a portrait that screams at _everybody_." He perked up, "I heard it even screamed at _Dumbledore_." He shrugged at their incredulous expressions, "It does! It's bloody loud too!"

"That's it?" Harry asked seeming to sag where he was sitting. He'd been hoping for more, or at least a better description. Or… a more promising one.

Sirius had lived in Azkaban, wouldn't…? It didn't matter. He dismissed his thoughts. Sirius would be fine. He hoped Professor Lupin was visiting, at least.

Snuffles, Padfoot, Sirius Black. He was an interesting human and an interesting person to boot. Demons in the Makai never behaved like Sirius had, after torture. He hadn't thought it would be possible, to be so _open_ after an ordeal like twelve years in Azkaban. Twelve years. It was horrifying to think of. He wouldn't have been able to survive. Every bad memory from this life and his last coming back in full clarity every time a Dementor was near? Harry was a bat, and maybe that made him a bit more fragile than a loyal and strong canine.

Battered but still fighting… Sirius lived more in the moment than anybody he had ever met, as Harry _or_ Kuronue.

Harry felt exhausted all at once. Sometimes being Harry was harder than being Kuronue had ever been. He admired his godfather for his perseverance and heart. Maybe that was odd for a demon, but he admired him all the same. Harry had never had someone who was willing to care on 'familial' ties alone.

Kuronue's clan had cared little, as their numbers had been on the rather high end of the spectrum. It had been a fairly isolationist community. He also knew that he had been an unwelcome accident, as had his elder sister, God don't bless her soul.

He had left the clan of his own violations, and under the protest of the clan heads, a while before maturity. Well, the term escaped, may be a better one to use to characterize his departure, as deserting the clan was unacceptable behavior. In reflection, he shouldn't have left so early and it pretty much forced him to become a bandit-thief but… whose to know? It might have turned out the same anyway.

Heh. Served them right.

Harry propped his chin on his right hand and watched his friends who were paying him no mind. Hermione and Ron were embroiled in another argument, petty and unheated as it were, their voices hadn't raised above 'indoor' volume.

Harry's attention wandered again. He found it rather hard to keep focused and he didn't bother to hide a yawn.

"Harry?" it was Hermione.

"Hmm?" he focused on her face. They had stopped their arguing, it seemed.

"Are you alright? You've been sleeping well, haven't you? It's not…" _Cedric_, she left unsaid, afraid of intruding on tender ground.

"A bit too much." He answered cryptically, avoiding details. They didn't need to know about his relatives' negligence this past summer.

"But are you _okay?_" Hermione pressured with a pinched worried look.

"Yeah, mate, you're not looking so well." Ron pitched in with his own knut of worry.

Harry perked up some, looking alert and almost cheery. "I'm fine." He smiled disarmingly, "I'm just a little tired and hungry." They looked a little less worried and he pushed on, "We were at Diagon Ally today, remember?" he teased. "And all I've had to eat today was that ice cream at Florean's."

Ron growled out a derisive, "Those bloody muggles!"

At the same time Hermione gasped, "Your Aunt and Uncle didn't feed you?!"

Remembering how much grief his friends had always given him about missing meals, Harry cringed and regretted saying anything. He didn't mind their behavior so much, as he had grown used to it in the four years he had known them, but… Merlin, they cared a lot, didn't they?

Thinking quickly, he gestured with his hands, trying to pacify them, "It's all right you guys. I just woke up late and didn't have time to grab anything!" he lied, "They've been treating me okay, they left me alone, actually!" maybe that was an overstatement, but they did leave him alone. For too long, actually.

Hermione looked doubtful at that but Ron took it at face value.

"Really?"

Relieved that Ron, at least, was accepting the explanation, Harry hastened to assure, "yes! Really. Err…" He glanced at Hermione thinking fast, "You don't have to worry. I'm okay! Look at me." He held his arms out dramatically in offering, almost obscenely grateful for his modified glamours.

Under the effects of the spell, Harry did appear to be fine. Albeit thinner and paler than when he had left for the summer, but not emaciated or pasty white. That was the bulk of the change. He hadn't gotten any taller, and his hair hadn't changed, and his face was only maybe slightly thinner. He still looked the same, and it was what they would have expected. He probably should have put on a few inches in height, but Harry wasn't sure he'd get those inches over the school year. He was hoping that that would occur over the school year, but he didn't want to hold the glamour any longer than he had to. As it was, he definitely wouldn't be able to while he was sleeping, and his spell casting would be wretched until he was no longer devoting so much of his energy to maintaining the glamour.

Ron sure had gained more than just a few inches, and Harry was now an inch or two shorter than Hermione, but that had always been common. He had always been the smallest in his year.

He really hoped he'd get a growth spurt over the school year. It would make his year. Harry almost scowled, missing the height he used to have.

Hermione still looked a bit doubtful but she pursed her lips and nodded in acceptance.

"Dinner should be soon."

…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…

Kurama came back from his outing with a bounce in his step. He hadn't actually stolen anything, though he had been sorely tempted, but he had gotten a bit out of bounds when he stopped at the bank. The goblins had caught him and scolded him for straying, of course, though Kurama hadn't been trying to hide from them in the first place. The whole structure seemed to thrum with power and those goblins were _everywhere_. Acting the part of a poor confused foreigner had gotten him off the hook amazingly fast. They either had to be exceedingly confident in their security measures, or foolish.

It reminded him of a place he had raided with Kuronue, once, around eight decades ago.

He walked up the stairs and past the banister where his flower twitched, as if eager to greet him but resigned to staying in place, though the plant wasn't quite intelligent enough for that complexity.

Kurama now had quite the collection of flower-screens gathered in his pocket. Some had been placed in shops and outside in the streets of Knockturn Ally. The most interesting stores he had 'planted' them in had been Borgin & Burkes and some nameless shop that was full of shrunken heads and miscellaneous cursed objects and artifacts. And others had been littered in the more and less populated areas of Diagon Ally. Both could be good sources of information.

His door creaked as he pushed it open and shut behind him with a resolute click.

While he didn't think that the newspapers would glean any important information, Kurama had also subscribed to a few papers, the Quibbler and the Daily Prophet two of the more notable ones. Witches Weekly he had vetoed all together when he looked over a copy of it on a stand. Nothing but boys and gossip fit for nosy girls and old ladies.

Who was Lockhart anyway? Kurama set his bags at the foot of his bed and made a mental note to look up recent pop culture and wizarding events.

Stretching his arms up high he yawned. He'd just brush his hair, take a shower, and tidy up for his trip to Kings Cross Station and make it a day. Koenma had provided ample funding for supplies, and Kurama was sure he had enough for a Taxi to the station. It was probably only twenty or thirty miles north off where he was currently.

He really didn't want to take a 'muggle' bus, not that he had heard of any 'wizarding' ones.

He made another mental note. He needed to ask if there were any wizarding modes of transportation.

…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…

"Ron?" Harry looked across and down the table, "Would you pass the butter?"

"Hmph?" Ron chewed his food about halfway and garbled out, "Sure." Before passing it half way.

"Thanks." Harry had to get out of his seat slightly, because half way for Ron wasn't half way for him, but at least he could reach it.

"Oi! Ginny! A biscuit!" Fred, and Harry was pretty sure it was indeed Fred, called from one end of the table.

A biscuit went sailing not much later.

"Thanks!"

"You really do have the—"

"Best aim our dear sister!"

Neither Mr. or Mrs. Weasley seemed to mind, though Hermione, predictably, scowled and glared.

The noise in the room was astounding. Not so much that it was particularly loud, but rather in that it was… full. Everyone seemingly had something to say and there were few breaks in the conversations. All subjects were tossed on board to boot. Fred and George were holding a very loud discussion about the pros and cons of aged and fresh Bloatwort leaves in potions—as apparently they had different effects on the potency of a potions and the shelf-life—with Hermione, while Ginny was jumped in and out of the conversation at will, while Ron argued Hufflepuffs chances against Ravenclaw—which he argued was hard to say because there were supposed to be new people chosen to fill spots on the teams this year and both teams seemed evenly matched anyway—with Ginny and Harry.

Percy was eating in relative silence, a book in his lap, and only pitching into the conversations when asked directly. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were also more on the quiet side though that didn't mean they weren't pitching in.

And… Harry stared at his very full plate, knowing he'd never get it all down. Mrs. Weasley's prods of 'eat more dear, you're too thin', weren't going to change that.

…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…

Harry stood just inside the doorway of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, taking in the vicinity. He may not be on a battle front, but he sure felt like it. The portrait Ron had mentioned was screaming obscenities and expletives. The sound was grating on his ears, and he could see at least eight people lurking in his peripheral vision.

"Come along this way, Harry," Mr. Weasley beckoned, wincing at the shrill portrait but otherwise steadfastly ignoring it. He'd probably had enough practice doing so.

Harry nodded and followed, still looking around attentively. He could hear the faux-Moody now—Vigilance!

Harry's only clear impression of the house was easily defined by the word 'dreary'. The furnishings and woodwork of the house was done in a type of dark wood—Youko would probably know which type, in fact, but Harry had never bothered to learn—and there seemed to be an inconsistent theme of dark blue, or maybe green, upholstery and rugs. It was hard to tell, as everything seemed to be covered in a decades worth of dust. The only bright things were the various silver and crystal decorations, as tarnished and dirty as they were.

He honestly wanted to grab a dust cloth and some all-purpose cleaner, and a vacuum.

Merlin, he blamed the Dursleys for that.

Mr. Weasley quickly escorted him to their destination, a room only a few doors and a hallway away. The dining room-meeting room it appeared.

"Harry!"

The speeding body of a big black dog stopped only a toot away in the form of a very human Sirius Black. A hand slapped his back a few times and he was embraced in—what he had heard Hermione dub several times—a 'man' hug, though an arm stayed slung over his shoulders in a friendly manner.

Ron had done it a few times, and the twins _more_ than a few times, so Harry didn't falter. It was more familiar territory than Mrs. Weasley's hugs were.

"Hi, Sirius!" Harry smiled widely in genuine happiness.

"How've you been, sport?" Sirius returned, pulling back just slightly and looking down on his with a brilliant smile and alert, if sunken, electric blue eyes.

Sirius looked better than he had the last time, Harry noticed at once. His hair wasn't as lank and greasy and while he was by no means completely healthy, he looked a great deal better than he had while he had been on the run. It was amazing what a few good meals, fitting robes, and a bath and a trim could do for an Azkaban escapee.

"Fine," Harry answered, "and even better, now that I get to see my friends and my dear old godfather."

If Sirius had his tail, it would have been wagging at that.

"What about you?"

Sirius dampened at the question, "Could've been better." He seemed to glare at his surroundings.

Confused, Harry tilted his head slightly in silent inquiry, "You liked being on the run?"

"Merlin no! But anything is better than here!" Sirius groused, letting his arm drop from Harry's shoulders.

Harry looked around again. It seemed a bit darker and more depressing than when he had entered, but not bad enough to merit that exclamation and definitely not uninhabitable.

"This is my mother's house," Sirius volunteered banging his fist on a nearby wall. "Hated this place when I was young," he grinned, all teeth, "Still do, I ran away more times than I can count," He added.

Harry weakly smiled back at the vicious grin. That was one thing that he wished he could have done successfully. To flee and never look back, what a dream that had been. However, to his chagrin, escaping to the Makai wouldn't have been a viable option. It was only just becoming an acceptable option now, but now he didn't have much of a reason to go. He could survive the Dursleys, and he had so far, and he didn't want to abandon his newfound godfather and his 'siblings' Ron and Hermione. They were close enough to count as family. In any matter, he doubted he would have survived as a 'child' in either world—one where children are not to be left alone, _or _one where they were acceptable food.

"Where'd you go?" Harry inquired as they started out another door, down another hallway, and up a few flights of stairs.

Sirius looked back, and tripped up the stairs. "Agh!" he yelped, "Merlin, that was a close one." He grabbed the rickety stairwell and ignored Harry's startled exclamation of concern, "What do you mean? While I was on the run or when I ran away?"

"When you ran away," he clarified.

Sirius took a left at the top of the stairs, "Hmm… Before Hogwarts I used to go to a muggle park that was around here when I was little. It's not here anymore though," he seemed thoughtful. "I loved it, plus it made my mother madder than hell."

"And after?"

Barking out a laugh he continued, "Oh, Hogwarts! After that I'd take off to Jamesies house. Mother would send howlers aplenty whenever I'd do that, but she didn't often come and get me herself."

Somehow Harry had been expecting that, "My dad's?"

"Yep! One second, Harry." Sirius opened a door and flipped on the light and turned around to stand in the doorway. "I'll sleep in that room right over there," he pointed across the hall, "and this is the guest room. You'll be staying here tonight."

Harry followed Sirius in and sat on one of the beds as his godfather juvenilely straddled a wooden chair, his robe opening to reveal a white T-shirt and light blue jeans. "You know," his godfather continued thoughtfully, "James' father had this long running joke when I was a kid." His eyes flashed slightly but he blinked harshly and folded his arms over the back of the chair and rested his chin over them. "He used to ask, 'Where's the rent?' every time I came over."

Harry had to smile at that.

…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…--…

Please drop by a review, even if it just says 'hi'! Although, I would also like constructive criticism, if you happen to have any.

**Anonymous reviews are always accepted**, please leave your** email** in the designated slot (_NOT THE MESSAGE, PLEASE!_) and I promise to E-Mail you the alert when I update again!

Jade: And I reiterate; this is **AU fifth year and that means that** **everything that occurs in the fifth book and beyond are under my jurisdiction, and up for me to twist and contort as I like. **That means that you may see parallels with the fifth book, as well as occasions and situations that would _shoot cannon to hell._ –aah! Added note! **Storylistener**! This comment is not directed towards you! THANK YOU for the noted discrepancy! Any other pre-story/post-cannon mix-ups please bring to my attention if you would? I can be quite fallible.

Just remember, some things are fate, and I AM GOD and the PULLER OF STRINGS. …in this story, at least.

Oh and just for fun… Kurama + Knight bus …? And the part that ALL of you are looking forward to is scheduled to come next chapter! —grins—

Oh and in the works: 'Angel of Fire, Demon of Ice', 'Magokoro', 'Witness', 'Reality', 'It Would Not Over Time', 'untitled vampfic', and 'Snapshot', so sorry for my divided time.

Thank you and glompeths too to:

angelkitty77, Tsurainoshi, KuroSakura-chan, Shadowgal ANBU, wdsnoop, terriestral-angell, momocolady, BladesofSilver, Hokuala, KitsuneOnna1, kahuffstix, Firehedgehog, peppymint, Lacus01, DiddyKong666, TwilightFalls, Kurama'srose124, darksaphire, kagedfox, KingofLoosePages, Pickle-Kitten, Hittocere, Kitten1011, MakurayamiOokami, LadyRosemary, Sweet-single, TheNightAir, animelava, Olaf74, Shadowolf21, mistressKC-wanteddeadoralive, HelKat, DragonFirePrincess, storylistener, HikaruKosuzaku, Sonia120462, Rythym, Merciless-the-insane-cancerian, libsrevenge, and Mari92.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or YYH, nor anything affiliated with them.

**Chapter Eight**

"Transportation?" Tom clarified to his guest, wiping a glass off with a dirty towel. "Well, the most popular is the Knight Bus. Or the Floo, and there is Apparition, and Trains, too."

Popular probably meant convenient, "Night Bus?" Kurama leaned against the counter but did not take a chair. He couldn't Apparate, didn't fancy Floo, and was looking for a ride to the trains, so that was moot.

"'For the stranded witch or wizard in need.'" Tom displayed his uneven teeth in a toothy grin, as if laughing at a private joke.

Kurama didn't get it, but that didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. "Could the Night Bus take me to Kings Cross Station?" 'Night Bus', what a funny name, especially with the dislike of 'dark' things the people of this community showed. It was unlike what he had seen so far of the community.

Tom set down the still dirty glass and reached for another. "Kings Cross?" He smiled crookedly, "O' course."

Kurama returned the smile pleasantly, "How much does it cost?"

"Not much, not much." His eyes were alight with suppressed laughter and an uneasy feeling crept up Kurama's spine.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

As Kurama stepped up and into the bus he was greeted with the sight of rows of beds and the occasional out of place—and occupied—chair. The meager passengers looked frazzled, but a few seemed at home on the bus, chatting companionably.

He took a seat on one of the beds and set his suitcase down near hit foot.

In retrospect, he thought that it was understandable that he was confused to find himself lying flat on the bed. Caught by surprise by the sudden acceleration, he blinked at the ceiling of the bus in slight disorientation.

Inari... Well, _that_ had been unexpected.

He sat back up and _felt_ the bus shudder as gears changed. His hands shot out and grabbed at the bed frame just in time as the speed of the bus hiccoughed. He was jostled back and forth unpleasantly by the force of it, but he didn't lose his grip.

_Blessed Inari_. While Kurama had no problems going fast in cars, trains, and the like, this was quite another matter! His heart jolted in his chest, his alarm quite clear to himself.

He looked around the bus suspiciously after reorienting himself once again.

Some of the passengers looked calm, while others looked just as frazzled as he felt.

The passengers consisted of a few men and women. One of the men was of advanced age, and the others looked about as old as Kurama's own human mother. Three of the women were rather young, sitting in a trio near the door. They looked the least frazzled of everyone—one was even knitting.

He shook his head. If this bus hosted a wide variety of people, then it might be a suitable place to leave one of his spy flowers.

The bus _lurched_ sickeningly and seemed to squeeze in on itself while jumping like a rubber ball.

His fingernails started to sink into the wood and his stomach twisted. He knew somebody who would have had a hell of a ride on this thing.

Well, he really was starting to worry about the continued health of his plant, under stressful conditions like these. It wasn't the most resilient, but it did survive in the Demon World. Kurama grimaced and hoped that that would be enough as he withdrew the seed from his hair and let it come to life on the slightly battered wood. In a small nook what was inconspicuous.

He spent most of the rest of his ride in silence, resigned to the ride and hoping that it would end soon.

There wasn't much he could do anyway. His flower was already set and he was enroute to the train station.

Not even looking out the windows helped. It just made Kurama dizzy, he realized hastily after trying. The rapidly changing scenery—traffic ridden roads, overgrown woods, small lakes and streams, and even a raised bridge seemed incomprehensible.

Incomprehensible—_he_ dealt with a fire apparition who could travel close to the speed of light. With the way the bus lurched and travelled, he would no sooner see one quickly moving sight before something new and completely different would replace it.

The bus squished and stretched and bounded again. It was enough to make even his stomach of steel ready to forsake its breakfast.

He gripped the wooden bedpost even more tightly, leaving shallow dents in the hard wood.

It was nothing like any sort of travel he had taken in the past.

Were wizards _insane_? His friends would enjoy this. He just knew it.

The bus slammed to stop, the effects of inertia gripping Kurama tightly in their too clingy hold. Whatever spells were on the bus just barely covered keeping the bus from _killing_ him. An abrupt stop or any abrupt collision at anything over 50 km/h an hour could kill a normal human.

He may be a demon, but still!

Kurama would swear on his life that it had been going a generous couple of hundred, _or so_, kilometers per hour that the brakes were… hit.

His suitcase had only gone sliding down the aisle, not the high-speed flying he had expected, but his hot chocolate had spilled terribly, drenching the already ill tempered man ahead of him. This brought him to one simple conclusion.

Contemporary Physics had _no_ applicable place anywhere in the scope of wizarding life. None. None what-so-ever.

Floating feathers could be explained away, impedimenta could be explained away, but this? This? Magical theory would _never _be able to explain why he and all the other passengers were _still_ alive.

Hadn't they ever heard of _Terminal Velocity? _Or the laws surrounding the _Speed of Light_? Even Apparition could be explained away! Inari!

He was never going to take the magical version of a bus as transport again. Ever.

He got off the bed unsteadily, prying his own fingers off the wood as he went.

He even took a moment to pity the flower he was leaving behind.

Kurama sighed in relief after he stepped off the bus, his suitcase in tow. This had to be the most relieving and joyous moment he could remember. If it were not undignified, dirty, greatly traveled, and _concrete_, he would have kissed the ground. Footprints, scuff marks, gum and all.

The doors abruptly click-clacked shut behind him and the bus took off with a tremendous whoosh of displaced air that threw his hair and clothes into utter disarray.

He spat out some red hair that had found its way into his mouth.

He had one more thing to be relieved about, though. Nobody had looked his way even once.

While smoothing out his green jacket he made his way into the station. Watching the numbers he walked past one through eight without any more trouble than some thick crowds and came to stop in front of the sign that declared Platform Nine.

Platform Nine and Three Quarters. The name itself appeared rather obnoxious. He had gone so far as to ask if the ticket had been misprinted when it had been issued. Where would the three quarters of a platform be located in any case? The far right wall when facing the sign? It was a particular wall in the station, the workers back in Japan had assured him. However, he hadn't been told _which_ wall.

He now regretted not pushing the issue… It could be the back wall for as much as he knew. Why couldn't they have labeled it Platform Nine Left? Or even Right Wall of Platform Nine?

He was pitying himself. He felt disgusted. He was a thousand year old Fox Spirit. He was _not_ a pubescent fifteen year old boy, no matter the growth stage of his body.

He pulled his bag closer and critically watched for movement near the walls that was out of the norm. Where were people _not_ looking? There were supposed to be anti-muggle Notice-Me-Not Charms on the walls

It took only a minute before the non-magical populace visibly twisted their attention away from one of the walls. Kurama only had time to see a half-submerged child with brown hair disappear into the wall before almost everyone visibly quit ignoring the wall again.

Therefore, it _was_ the right wall. He shook his head, grabbed his bag, and started pushing his way through the crowd.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Harry yawned his jaw cracking with the gesture. His trunk was still packed, as he had not bothered to take anything more than his P.J.s and tooth brush out the night before. He rubbed his eyes and readjusted his glasses. He set his bleary eyes on the members of the Order of the Phoenix, of whom, several were rushing around in early morning activity. He yawned again and scratched his head, while he waited.

The night before, shortly after he arrived, he had had a nice talk with his godfather. Neat man Sirius Black was. Harry had never met anyone like him.

He smiled slightly and rubbed his nose. It was neat, learning about his parent's school lives. No one ever said much about them—just that he looked like his father and had his mother's eyes, and that his father excelled in Quiddich and Transfiguration, and his mother in Charms. It made him frustrated that he never got the chance to be raised by them. They would have been wonderful parents.

They died for him. He would never forget that. They might not have known that they would be trying to save a demon as well as their young child, but they cared enough to _die_ _in his place_.

He never believed any of his relatives lies about them, anyway.

"Harry! Did you forget anything upstairs?" Sirius, with a look of mischief on his face strolled into the foyer with a bit of a bounce to his step.

His smile grew slightly at the sight of the cheerful man.

Sirius sure was see-through today. "Err…" Harry's warning bells chimed cheerily in response. "Aah, not really?" Harry shook his head, "I have everything settled already. I was just waiting for Mr. Weasley."

Sirius' face fell into a pout. The expression looked a bit strange on the man's gaunt face, and it was likely not the look he had been aiming for. Harry felt guilty for ruining his godfather's fun, but whatever he had in store wasn't going to be in store for him.

Slightly nervous Harry set down Hedwig's cage and approached him, "Was there something you wanted me to… _See_?" He emphasized his last word, he would see it if the man wanted to prank him with, but he certainly wouldn't be subject to it. "Mr. Weasley will be a while yet… Though I do hear George and Fred coming down the stairs…" He raised his eyebrows suggestively in inquiry.

Sirius looked thunderstruck for a moment barely muffling a, "How did you know?" before registering the whole sentence and ducking around the side of the stairwell with a hurried beckoning gesture. The expression of mischief was back in full force and he was smiling manically. "You have got to see this one, then."

It was only a few moments more that the twin's thumping footsteps were rumbling down the stairs.

They were linked arm in arm, Harry could just barely tell from the awkward angle he had to crane his neck at to see them. Sirius elbowed him and held his hand out as he started ticking down his fingers.

Three… Two… One.

"_Uwaaagh!_" the yell came in stereo as the twins hit the eight step and three things occurred at once.

Fluffy green sheep's fur sprouted from their faces in a flash of red and yellow sparks, and the stairs they had been standing on just a second before became a festively decorated slide. If that weren't enough, both twins fell on their rumps—still arm in arm—and went careening back up the stairs in a whoosh, eliciting even more startled noises from them, which had taken a distinctly feline tone.

Harry almost choked on air.

That had to have been the _most_…

Displeased yowls erupted from the third floor accompanied by an awkward thump.

No, the _weirdest_ thing Harry had ever seen in his life.

"Siri—"

"BLACK!" the feminine roar from the kitchen thoroughly drowned any words Harry could have had to say, though the rush of curtains and the bloodcurdling howls of the deranged portrait soon drowned the yell out.

"It was nice know—I mean, it was nice _seeing_ you Harry!" Sirius yelled from a foot away, "Remember to open your package when you get to school! See you around!"

Harry was assaulted with a quick hug-hair ruffle before the man disappeared in a flurry of black robes and fur.

Molly Weasley stormed into the foyer, barely glancing at Harry of the portrait as she took off after the escaping canine.

A few of the Order members had stopped to stare, their fingers pressed firmly into their ears, and one unfortunate member took upon himself the difficult task of wrangling Mrs. Black's curtain back around her painting.

Harry started to laugh. He really liked that man.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Kurama tapped on the wall and felt the unusual sensation of his hand going through it. Grimacing in displeasure he made sure he still had all of his things with him and picked up his suitcase. He walked right through the wall without pause, and popped out the other side with minimum difficulty. The wall had only obscured his vision for a moment—had he blinked he would have missed even that. Odd feeling aside, the wall was a work of genius. He idly wondered who had come up with it and when it had been implemented.

He shook his head. That didn't matter.

He looked around with honest curiosity, and hugged one of the walls, skirting around the milling crowd. There might be a place or two to leave some more of his flowers. In fact… he spotted a few flower boxes that made a row for customers to align when purchasing tickets. He walked closer and lifted a few flowers, as if examining them while dropping a few seeds in the box. The platform was pretty small, partially occupied benches lined the two walls and it was about half as wide as it was long.

His fingers idly dragged along the length of the stone rim of the flower box as he entered the crowd.

Kurama was probably a bit early, as the hustle and bustle wasn't nearly as bad as he was accustomed to or expecting. This was nothing compared to his trips to Tokyo. There were all manner of people on the platform, adults and children and they were scurrying like ants. Very few of them were wearing their robes, but what they were wearing was very out of date. Kurama set down his bags for a moment and started digging in his pocket for his ticket. He could see employees standing near the train doors collecting them.

It took him a few minutes to navigate through the crowd, but he was by the train soon enough. He handed the man his ticket and squeezed by to find himself standing in a rather wide hallway. Kurama suspected an enlargement charm was at work. The train certainly hadn't looked this wide from the outside, unless the compartments were tiny.

Kurama slid open the first compartment to his left, but found it quite full.

"Sorry! This one's full!" A tiny student who was squished up against the window chirped. Kurama just smiled and nodded and closed the door again.

The next few compartments yielded the same results. He was a few doors into the less occupied compartments when he found one that contained only one student.

He stood in the open doorway for a few moments, watching the student read.

Pulling on a polite smile he spoke, "Would you mind sharing this compartment with me?"

The child startled badly, his head snapping around to stare at Kurama and his fingers tightening on the books cover.

"Ah! Err, no, I don't—I don't mind." He scooted over as if to free up some space on his bench.

Kurama entered and stood across from the boy.

"And who are you?" Kurama asked with a slight smile.

The student looked up bashfully from the book he had been hiding behind. "Terry Boot."

"What house are you in?" Kurama hefted his luggage up into the rack, "And thank you for letting me share this cab with you." He sat down on the opposing bench. "My name is Shuuichi Minamino."

"I am in Ravenclaw, and it's no problem at all."

"What year?"

"I`m a fourth year." His fingers tapped his book a bit before he voiced his question, "Are you going to be a teacher this year? I don`t recognize you."

Only a few years older, then. "Do I really look that old?" a dark red eyebrow hiked up on his forehead.

"No, but..."

Kurama leaned back in his seat. "Is it because you do not recognize me? I gather that you do not often have transferred students?"

"No, not that I`ve ever known of!" The boy—Boot—sat up straighter.

Kurama laughed in response. "I must be special, then."

"Where are you from?"

"Japan." He paused and volunteered part of his cover story, "My family just moved here and I wanted to be close."

"Cool! I`ve never met anyone from outside the UK."

Kurama shrugged and smiled. "I have only been here a few days, myself."

Terry smiled in return.

Seeing an opportunity he started asking questions.

"So... What is so special about the different houses at Hogwarts? You just said you were a Ravenclaw?"

"Well..." Boot paused and set his book aside "Hogwarts, A History" embossed on the binding. "Ravenclaw is for the students who like to learn." Boot grinned, "We're the best house, if you ask me."

"Studious students?"

"Yeah, we even have a small private library in our common room."

"What are the other houses?"

"Eeh, there is Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. Hufflepuff is for people who value loyalty over all else, Gryffindor for bravery, and Slytherin for cunning. Though people who don't fit into Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, or Slytherin also go to Hufflepuff, or so I've heard."

"That seems pretty clear-cut." Kurama commented, while wondering what house he would be in. "How are students sorted?"

"With the Sorting Hat, of course!"

"…Sorting _Hat_?"

"Yes, it goes through your head and decides for you." At Kurama's wide eyed and alarmed look Boot grinned mischeviously but elaborated. "It uses your past experiences to determine where you go, and your hopes for your future." Boot paused here, "You're a little old for it though. Not a First Year, are you?"

"Definitely not. I have tested into Fifth Year."

"Tested?" Boot looked surprised.

"The classes in Japan do not run parallel to the classes in Europe." Kurama explained, "I had to do a lot of studying to test in. Japan does not have all of the same classes that Europe does, and Europe does not have the all of same classes as Japan."

Boot was silent a few moments, processing that, "You'll probably be a Ravenclaw then, if you went through all the effort of learning that…"

"Maybe. I do enjoy learning, and I have had to learn more English, Greek, and Latin than I ever thought I would need to know."

"You didn't speak English?"

"Not fluently, and I still have an accent."

"Merlin, I didn't even notice! You're not using a charm then?"

"Thank you? No, I am not. A charm would not be reliable enough, and would not help with spells. Now, the Sorting Hat—does it have confidentiality?"

"I think so. I've never heard of it telling anyone about something it saw in someone's head. I think the headmaster would get in a lot of trouble if it did."

The train whistle blew, distracting the two, and it jerked forward a bit starting to roll on the rails.

Kurama could hear some cheers from other compartments through the open door, and footsteps of several students who rushed down the hall.

"Ah! Hurry! Close the door before we get first years!"

Kurama got up.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

"Bye Mrs. Weasley!" Harry waved and headed straight for the trains door, following after Ron and Hermione, who were practically running to make it before the train left them behind.

The train's whistle blew just after the boy cleared the door and the conductor threw him a dirty look before accepting his ticket.

"We'll see you in a bit, Harry! We have to do something first!" Hermione yelled from further up the train, Ron by her side.

"Okay!" Harry yelled back, waving shortly.

Shaking his head he turned around and headed down the corridor. It was a prefects meeting, probably. Though how Ron got to be a Prefect, Harry really didn't know. He would have expected it to be Neville, if anyone.

He glanced from side to side watching for an available compartment. The first several seemed crammed, though that didn't surprise Harry. He wondered if the last compartment was free again. Seeing a compartment with an open door, he hurried his stride a bit before a red-head suddenly appeared in the doorway, already in the process of closing the door.

Green met green for a moment before the door shut completely.

Harry faltered a bit before continuing. A question burned in his mind. Who was that? There was something… familiar? Harry shook his head. Couldn't be familiar. He'd never met anyone like that before.

…But still…

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

"Who was that?" Kurama asked just after the door shut. Terry returned to his seat and Kurama followed suit.

"That? That was Harry Potter."

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

**AN**: Not abandoned. On summer break, will be working hard at getting several chapters out in the next few months. Wish me luck!

Please drop by a review, even if it just says 'hi'! Although, I would also like constructive criticism, if you happen to have any.

GIMME CRITICISM! (please)

**Anonymous reviews are always accepted**, please leave your** email** in the designated slot (_NOT THE MESSAGE, PLEASE!_) and I promise to E-Mail you the alert when I update again!

Thanks to: Nebelkind, harrylover101, berkie88, bri, Obscure Stranger, FallenHope-Angel, PirateCaptainBo, BlackRose-FlowerofDeath, Death Marss, webpixie, TaiOokamiYoukai, Servant of Nature, Fire Dolphin, skabs, Mira, Ange, Meliko, Icylone, Stars-Eclipsed, Kinoshita Kristanite, Aniset, Makura, no-blood-in-my-veins, TheOneThatIsAddictedToHPfics, Kiseki no Tenshi, teenwitch18, Shadowed Night Sky, Estheriana, QuantumMelody, Makurayami Ookami, Johnny-on-the-spot, momocolady, Merciless-the-insane-cancerian, Firehedgehog, Fk306 animelover, Kurama'srose124, Olaf74, Sonia120462, KuroSakura-chan, HelKat, BlueIceSpirit, NekoHex, and AnnaGu.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or YYH, nor anything affiliated with them.

**Chapter Nine**

It was a good while later that Kurama looked up from the "Hogwarts, A History" text that Boot had lent him. There was the sound of something rattling down the corridor outside of their room.

Boot started digging though his pockets at that and Kurama could hear the jiggling of coins as Boot quickly withdrew a coin pouch.

"What is that?" he asked, referring to the sound outside their door.

"The trolley!" Boot seemed pleased, "I was wondering if it would come any time soon!"

"Trolley?"

"Yeah, you can buy sweets and snacks from her. I`m gonna stock up now." He frowned, "I forgot my stuff at home."

"That's a shame."

Boot grimaced, "Yeah. They'll be stale before I get to them again. All those Chocolate frogs," he almost whined.

"I prefer Japanese-Muggle sweets, myself." Kurama volunteered.

"Muggle Sweets?" Boot sounded interested.

"Yes, they are very good." He slid a leaf in between the books pages and set it aside just as the compartment door opened and a rather old and lumpy woman peeked her head in asking, "Sweets, dearies?"

"Ah! Yes! I'll take some Pumpkin Juice and Chocolate Frogs and some Licorice Wands, please." Boot requested brightly. "Ah, Shuuichi," he turned to his compartment mate, "have you ever had any of this?"

"No, I have not." Kurama shook his head, getting up and coming to the door to get a better look at the selection.

"It's all very good!" Boot practically chirped, "And not too expensive either. Less than 12 sickles if you get one of everything."

Kurama nodded, quickly doing the math, "Not even ¥500. Do you have change for a Galleon?" He looked to the vendor.

"O'course."

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Trunk finally in place, Harry kicked his feet off the edge of the seat and landed sitting on the bench.

Now all he had left to do was wait the ride out. His homework was complete, and he didn't feel like reviewing his textbooks.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat.

For another school year, and just a "Dark Lord" and his merry band of "Death Eaters" out after his hide.

He had to admit, the last year had been hell. He desperately hoped there wouldn't be any more 'tournaments' until _after_ the end of his Hogwarts experience. He would be happy to be a spectator watching some other poor idiot get himself killed.

Harry grimaced. Voldemort could touch him now, and it was no less of a painful experience for Harry than it had been when he was eleven.

Physical impairment aside, it was looking more inviting every incident to try surviving by himself, back in the Makai.

He honestly couldn't say which option was worse.

He opened his eyes and looked at the clock before letting them call closed again, content to daydream.

Back in the Makai, as Kuronue, he had been great. One of the two greatest Thief-Bandits there were, with an amazingly powerful Kitsune at his side.

_Merlin__, _he missed Yoko Kurama. Why such an awe-inspiring man such as he had taken interest in him, Harry honestly, _to this day_, did not know.

They had only met a few hundred years ago. Kuronue had only been a measly four hundred or so years old when he had died. He knew Yoko Kurama had been at least four times his age. Maybe five.

That Merlin-be-damned heist and detective! _And_ that trap! Harry hoped Kurama had gotten away. Harry still didn't know, but he would find out soon if everything worked out for the better or worse, eventually.

He was finally fifteen, and he planned to train his magic hard this year. His physical state right now wasn't anywhere near close to where he wanted it to be, but had had time to overcome the weakness and malnutrition. Experience had taught his that the tiny form wouldn't likely get more than a few more inches in height and he doubted he could get his vision fixed any time soon, but he could work more on his speed and strength. Quiddich would actually help in that regard. Harry grinned as he thought of it. Chasing around the snitch and dodging bludgers actually helped his reaction speed, and it was a great source of fun during the school year as well.

_Hundreds of years of training and practice down the drain!_

_But at least he was alive._

He snorted. He had heard that he was considered 'Gifted' at Quiddich. Gifted, his arse. Harry had been working on his speed for years, and he would only get faster.

It frustrated him badly, to be doing over so much work he had spent centuries on, but he wouldn't be 'dead' if he had been able to carry that along with his to this new _human_ form.

Kuronue had been _fast_, and he had packed quite the deadly mark with his sickles, but this situation made him wish he had worked more with his Youki.

Yoko was amazing with his plants. Kuronue? He had some control over air and winds, enough for concealing mists and, if her were careful enough, blinding wind, sand, and dust storms.

The most it had been useful for was detecting and ambushing enemies.

That wouldn't be enough to save him now, and Harry was afraid to work on it with prying eyes. He wasn't sure if they could detect his Youki as 'magic', as his high reiki was, and he didn't want to take a chance that he could be expelled right now.

Everything was too dangerous right now. Especially with the political situation.

Even he knew, with his 'status' as the boy-who-lived that the Wizarding 'World' could turn on him in an instant.

At times, it seemed even more unstable that the Makai's, and what a nightmare that had been, was.

There had been a reason his Clan had been so isolationist.

He opened his eyes again and twisted to that his legs were stretched across the seat and his back was up against the window.

At least Malfoy hadn't found him yet. He wasn't in the mood to deal with his juvenile taunts, at least, not without Ron present. Ron's immaturity in return made all the taunts and insults amusing.

A friend could always bring humor to such situations.

Funny and annoying at once, at least the funny usually outweighed the annoying.

It wasn't much later that the trolley came. It was a little low on snacks, but that was okay. Harry just wanted some chocolate frogs and pumpkin juice, and he settled in to wait for his friends while he munched on them slowly.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

"Harry!" Hermione spilled into the compartment, Ron falling in after her.

"Hermione! Ron!" Harry called back, laughing. "Was the meeting good?"

"We have a transfer student this year!" Hermione practically sparkled.

"Like last years' exchange students?" Harry asked, watching the two take their seats, Hermione across from him and Ron next to his feet, which were still up on the seat, "cause I think I already saw her."

"Her?" Hermione sounded befuddled and frowned in response. "Oh, no. Not like last year. This is a Hogwarts student now. She laughed and Harry noticed Ron staring at him, "And really? Her? Are you sure that you saw the exchange student? Our new student is a boy, Harry."

Harry cocked an eyebrow and pulled his knees up to his chest, confused. "I saw a girl with long red hair and green eyes. _Very _long _very_ red hair. She sort of looked like Cho, too."

"That's odd. We were supposed to get a boy from Japan. Not a girl."

"Yeah, the Head Boy said his name was supposed to be summat like… Err. Shoe-itchy Min-ami-no."

"Oh Merlin Ron. Never call him that to his face." She made a disgusted expression her nose all wrinkled and her eyes closed as if in pain.

"Wha_aaat_?" Ron whined back. "What did I say?"

"I agree with her, Ron, don't ever try to call Minamino that. That was terrible. I think you meant Shu-i-chi Mi-na-mi-no. Try it again." Harry couldn't help but be horribly amused at the mispronunciation. How Ron could have ever gotten _that_ monstrosity out of a simple Japanese name, Harry didn't know. Or well. It was Ron. Maybe Harry could understand. He tried to fight of a grin as he stared over his knees at his befuddled friend.

"Harry is right, Ron." Harry could hear the smile in her voice as she said this. "The transfer students name was supposed to be Shuichi Minamino."

"Augh. All right. Shoe-ichy Mi-na-mi-no." Ron harrumphed, "Sounds like I'm up for a round of do-re-mi." He snorted."

"Acceptable." Hermione approved with a sniff.

Harry laughed so hard he buried his face in his knees, shaking like a loon.

"Harry?" Ron had a weird expression on his face when Harry looked up. "Are you alright? It wasn't _that_funny, was it?"

Harry just grinned. "Funniest thing I've seen all summer. I've missed you. Both of you."

"Yeah. Sorry mate. I tried to get mum to get you to come over, but she said Professor Dumbledore said it wasn't safe for you." Ron slumped back into the backrest, "Even though we had Charlie putting up wards and everythin'."

"Yes. Sorry Harry, I wish I could have taken you with me when I went to Romania this summer," Hermione added, "but there wouldn't have been anything protecting you either."

"Err, yeah. That's okay. Your hands were tied anyway," Harry acknowledged. "How did your trip go, anyway?"

She fiddled with her robes for a moment before she answered and Harry could see Ron pouting.

"I had—"

"She had fun with _Krum_." Ron interrupted.

"Ron!"

"Well, you were going to _see him_, weren't you?"

"That wasn't the point!"

They looked like they were brewing up another fight so Harry quickly intervened, "Hermione! Ron! I just want to know how your summers went! So would you please not argue!" …even though his intervention came out a bit petulantly. Merlin, did he sound like a little kid or what?

"Sorry Harry."

"Yeah, sorry mate." Ron echoed, a smidge contrite.

"So summer?" Harry asked again, getting more comfortable and propping his head up on his forearm.

"Well, yes. I went to Romania this summer," Hermione started again, "Krum did invite me at the end of last year. It was fun, and Krum was very sweet." She smiled. "I visited with Krum for a week and then my parents came to Romania too and we made a family vacation out of it."

"Krum has his own apartment." Ron added petulantly.

"Well, he is eighteen." Hermione added, glaring at Ron from her seat. "And he does have a job."

"I can't believe your parents let you!" Ron argued.

"I'm almost sixteen, Ron! My parents trust me!"

"Ron! That's her business, not yours!" Harry added, offended for her sake.

"But!"

Hermione stood up, frazzled and angry. "Not your business! Keep your opinions to yourself!" she took a deep breath, "Harry? I'm headed to the lavatory. We should be at Hogwarts in ten minutes or so, so I'll see you at the carriages after the train stops," she added abruptly, stalking out the door and near slamming it shut behind her.

"Bloody hormonal, that one." Ron huffed.

"Merlin Ron." Harry, snapped, irritated, and suddenly remembering how tired he was. He dropped his knees into an awkward Indian cross on the narrow seat and tilted his head to the side as he observed his friend. It suddenly struck him, a flash of clarity on Ron's behavior.

Oh. So that was it. "You're jealous, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

"Whaaat?"

"You are. I can tell." Harry scratched the side of his head. He didn't know how to handle this.

"No I'm not!"

"You are." Except argue about it, apparently.

"Not!" Ron was starting to turn a red that clashed vibrantly with his hair and drowned out his own freckles. Harry was right. He knew it, but did Ron?

"Ron. _Admit it._ You like Hermione."

"So what if I do?"

Harry cracked a grin, "Go after her—no, I don't mean literally. She'd hex you if you followed her into the bathroom—but quit poking at her so much and ask her out." There. That sounded like sound advice, Harry hoped. "Maybe you two would fight less then." Harry added at the flabbergasted look Ron shot back at him.

Ron practically drooped, "Nah mate, she'd never say yes."

Harry couldn't help but agree with Ron's assessment. It was probably true. "I dunno. Try being nicer to her? Treat her like you would if she were your girlfriend, sans the flirting and jealousy, maybe?" he suggested. "If she liked you more, you could try asking her later. She might say yes."

"I don't—"

The Hogwarts Express' whistle blew loudly and Harry could feel the train slowing down. "We're here!" Harry sprang off the seat, staggering a little at a jolt. He wouldn't admit it to Ron if Ron so happened to ask, but he felt a little relieved that the conversation was interrupted, aside from his exhilaration to finally be at one of the closest places he now had to the concept of 'home'.

The train stopped with a final hiss and jolt and Harry hurried for the nearest exit, leaving Ron behind and seeing many of his classmates again, but only one short glimpse of the vibrant red hair of the transfer student. Was Hermione sure that it was supposed to be a boy? Harry didn't quite think the redhead was tall enough to be a boy, though the exchange student _was_taller than Harry himself was.

Smaller target, Harry tried to justify his height to himself, but he didn't quite believe it.

He spilled out onto the paved train stop in front of Hogwarts regal arched gates with the rest of his classmates. Hagrid could be heard already, calling for the first years and after a few minutes Harry could see Hermione waving through the crowd, standing next to some worn carriages with skeletal horses—Thestrals Harry recalled from his Care of Magical Creatures text.

He walked through the now thinning crowd, eyes locked on them. Was this really his first time seeing a Thestral? He didn't recall seeing them his first year, and his second, third, and fourth years arrivals had missed this mode of transport…

"Pretty aren't they?" Harry just about jumped out of his skin when he heard a soft voice pop up behind his shoulder, and he turned quickly, almost fast enough to make himself dizzy. A blond girl with blue eyes stood there, radishes hanging on her ears and bottle caps around her neck. Her hand was up touching the wand behind her ear as she looked past him, staring at the Thestrals. Luna. Luna Lovegood, Harry recalled.

"You saw Cedric last year, didn't you?" she asked before she quickly volunteered, "Mine was my mother."

"Err. Yeah."

"It's a shame that it takes seeing _that_ to see them though. They really are quite beautiful, don't you agree?"

"Err… Yeah." Harry felt like he was repeating himself, and yes, they did have their own charm. Harry had seen much uglier in the Makai, so he hastened to add, "They are quite charming. Err… nice… bones."

The girl smiled and walked to one of the carriages and hopped in right after Neville

What a loony girl.

"Har—ry!" Hermione yelled, "Over here! Hurry! Before we take off without you!" A still blushing Ron stood beside her, his arms crossed defensively across his chest, stubbornly looking aside, much like a mule.

Ron would come around, Harry knew. He jogged the last of the way, slapping Ron's shoulder friendlily along the way and was the first to climb into the carriage, where he admired the satiny feel of the seats and the fancy tassels, all a century out of date. Ron and Hermione climbed in next, followed quickly by Susan Bones, and then they were off up the trail, rolling courteously with nary a bump.

The ride was quiet, each lost in their own thoughts while Harry peered out the tiny windows at the grass and trees they passed by.

Before Harry knew it, they were standing in a group, Hogwarts great doors before them.

Drawing in a fortifying breath, he waited while the Head Boy knocked on the doors.

It was time to be "Harry Potter" again. Arrogant, idiotic, and Gryffindor-ic—if ever there were such a word. Harry, or rather, Kuronue as he really was, didn't think he'd ever like to meet the boy so many people thought he was—including Professor Snape. Gryffindors were supposed to be brave and foolish. He supposed he had gotten that down to a 'T'. He was a classic 'Gryffindork' according to Draco, the pompous twit. As much as he disliked the kid, he was sure that the kid was right.

Harry didn't think he could have been a Slytherin. He had known, from the moment he had stepped foot into the magical world, that the citizens were dangerous. There was the classic corrupt government, filled with a surplus of hate for anything out of the accepted scope of normalcy.

Harry was by no means normal.

He already dealt with the consequences of being out of the norm at the Dursleys and he had no wish to deal with it elsewhere.

The wizarding world was far more dangerous than the Dursleys anyway and he didn't think he could afford for them to be set against him, especially not with_ what_, who, and how he was supposed to be in their world. At the onset, he hadn't been as clueless as he had let on, that day on the train when Hermione had told him of the existence of books written of him. He had glanced through a couple while Hagrid had been distracted while he had been in **Flourish and Blott's**. He had been tempted to smuggle a few past his relatives when he got home, but had no clue what kind of security measures, if any, were employed in this _world_.

His first lesson on this new world was in history, and the history of Wizarding kind wasn't very reassuring...

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Kurama hopped down the last stair and stepped to the side, letting the rush of students flow past him. Stopping to take in his surroundings, he looked up and around at the impressive forest of trees reaching into the already darkening sky, one hand coming up to linger with the seeds in his hair.

It was an old growth, gnarled and strong, and older than even he was. Something about it rang familiar, but Kurama just couldn't give name to what it was. It wasn't fear, though there was something about it that made him feel uneasy, almost queasy, and depressed—if he had to stick clear words to it.

In any case, Kurama knew a good opportunity when he saw one. He fingered the Spy Flower seeds that clung to his hair. It was altogether likely that this archway was one of the only entrances and exits of the Hogwarts grounds used by the mass populace—and if it wasn't, then it was likely to be _the_ most commonly used one on the grounds.

He had left a small flower up near the front of the train, just in case, and only had a few seeds left by this point. He pulled his hand from his hair the seed clinging to his fingertips. He'd need to harvest more seeds soon, but leaving a flower on the gate was an opportunity he just couldn't ignore. He walked with the crowd through the gates, and let his hand just seem to brush the door as he passed it, leaving the flower nestled among the vines that clung to the bars where it bloomed rapidly, blending in.

Once inside the gates he stopped again, the crowd filtering on past him and let his eyes follow the fence, where it was all too soon swallowed by the trees and other flora.

Yes. It once again struck a chord, as being a view that he should remember, but he still could not bring what he was missing to mind.

"Firs' years, firs' years, over here!" a loud and gruff voice called over the din. Kurama paused. Well. It was his first year here…

"Ah! Mister Minamino! Over here, boy!" Hagrid called, spotting the new student. "Yer ridin' with the firs' years!" a huge man called boisterously, gesturing in welcome with hands bigger than trash-bin lids. Kurama hadn't seen anyone so big in almost a decade and a half, he realized and he walked up to stand next to a man that seemed almost double his own height.

Beady black eyes in a worn face covered with a wiry curly beard twinkled down cheerily. "Nice to meet you, m'name is Hagrid!" he grinned down, so at odd with anyone and everyone Kurama had ever seen of his stature, "I'm the groundskeeper and Care o' Magical Creatures teacher, I hope to see you in class."

Kurama smiled back, "I think I have that class, I will see you there."

"Good! Good!" Hagrid laughed, "Wait ov'r there while I get the res' of the firs' years." He instructed, gesturing to a dock that reached a ways into the lake before moving further into the crowed, calling "Firs' years, firs' years, over here!"

Kurama nodded to himself and walked over to where some other first years were waiting. They looked nervous as could be, tiny, fidgety, and wide-eyed. Also, Kurama noticed with amusement, much,_ much_ shorter than he was.

While he waited he looked around some more, his sharp eyes taking in details over the sea of children nearby. He could just make out Potter climbing into a carriage being drawn by a winged skeletal horse with teeth. Long sharp teeth. They looked familiar and it took Kurama a moment to realize that he recognized them as 'Thestrals' from his studies with Takanori-sensei.

Carnivorous flying beasts that could only be seen if the viewer has witnessed death first hand. Ominous superstition was attached to the creatures, but he'd read that there had been several packs domesticated almost like dogs or cats. He doubted they'd be present here if they weren't part of one of those packs.

The Thestrals started to leave, clawed paws tearing up little tufts of grass and pebbles, carriages gliding along behind them.

Hagrid approached soon after, a few scared first years trailing along behind him. "Al'righ' students! Off to Hogwarts!" He raised a hand beckoningly towards the water and little boats glided across the glassy surface of the lake and to the dock, "No mor'n four to a boat!"

Hushed whispers broke out among the children and a few gazed upon the boats with fear born of whispers of "But I can't swim!" and "My brother told me there's a monster in the lake!" while others looked excited and climbed into the boats with great hurry.

Kurama settled into one of the boats with a little blond haired girl with brown eyes who stared at him in fascination and two brunet boys who kept looking around as if they thought they'd miss a monster coming if they didn't.

"What are you doing here, Mister?" the little girl asked, with a doubtful expression on her face, "You're too old to be a first year, aren't you?"

"Ah, well." Kurama started, interrupted shortly as Hagrid called "Onward!" and the boat jolted. Both boys squeaked like mice, but the little girl didn't even flinch.

"Technically I am a first year… I just transferred here and I will be a fifth year student." He explained succinctly.

"So you get to ride with us?"

Kurama nodded, "I do, and I will be sorted with you as well."

"Do you know what they do to sort us?" that caught the two boys attention, and they chimed in their own inquires.

"No, I am afraid not." He denied.

"I heard you get to wrestle a troll…"

They all went quiet after that and settled in for the ride across the lake.

Ten minutes later they were climbing out of the boats and onto another dock, and then trekking across an open expanse of short grass to the double doors that led into the Hogwarts Castle.

Hagrid knocked with great thumping bangs, and a stern looking woman with graying hair pulled back into a severe bun answered with a small smile. She guided them into the foyer where they waited a few minutes and a quartet of ghosts passed through without seeming to notice anyone at all. Much to the dismay and excitement of several of the first years.

He walking through the doubled doors brought about a feeling of nostalgia. He didn't think it came from the building, as he had seen a few like it before, nor was it the people, or the feel of loose Reiki undulating across his skin, but there was something familiar and nostalgic about it all.

He almost felt like he was on one of his thefts and grand adventures again.

"I am Professor McGonagall, the head of house for the Gryffindors." She introduced herself, "Now, if you will all come this way," she gestured at the door, "one at a time, you'll be sorted."

There were a few whispers, and then everyone went quiet.

She opened the doors and the first years started filing in one by one to the sound of clapping.

"You are Mister Minamino, right?" She asked, as he passed by.

"Yes ma'am."

She nodded stiffly, "Welcome to Hogwarts, Mister Minamino. You will be sorted last and introduced to the rest of the students." Professor McGonagall informed him. "So, just wait back here by the door until I call your name."

"Yes ma'am, thank you."

She walked past him, up to a stool where a hat cracked open a rip, and started to sing, much to Kurama's and the new student's surprise.

After the hat's song about inter-house unity, courage, and strength and the sorting of the first years, Kurama came to stand next to Professor McGonagall, as she hid her scroll back inside her sleeve.

"Everyone, I would like to introduce you all to Shuichi Minamino! He is a very intelligent transfer student fresh out of Japan." She announced with a sliver of a smile, "He can speak English perfectly. Why don't you say hello, Mister Minamino?" she suggested

"Ah, Hello." Kurama started, smiling genially to the crowd, "It is nice to meet you. I hope we have a wonderful year together."

"He will be joining the fifth years." She added.

She lifted the hat, and Kurama tried to smother his concern that it would tattle that he was a demon out to the whole student body or refuse to sort him. He sat on the stool and clasped his hands on his lap as the hat came to set on his head, dropping down to his eyebrows.

"_Well, what do we have here?_" a voice asked, the one he had heard shouting the names of the four houses. "_You're older than I am used to sorting._" The voice reminded him a bit of Hiei, if Hiei were an old man.

"Hello." He responded cautiously.

"Indeed! Well, I can see a great amount of intelligence in you, and cunning and bravery—"

"What can you see?" Kurama asked, curious at the lack of questions about himself and his presence. If the hat could get into his head, shouldn't it be asking questions? Why was he here? What was he? And if it knew he was a demon—why should a hell spawn like he be allowed in the presence of human children?

"_Oh, no, no. What a breach of privacy! You fear I can see your memories? I've had children fear that. No, you have to want me to know what you are thinking and then I will see it. Why, young mister Potter has done so, when requesting help during his second year! Quite a novel experience that was—oh, my. Bargh, I'm rambling aren't I Mister Minamino?"_

Feeling a little relieved, he answered acerbically, "Just a little."

"_My apologies Mister Minamino, I can simply see your… 'You'. How prideful or courageous, sharp or smart, loyal or honest, and cunning or cautious you are. I am simply a hat for sorting these qualities. In any case, you have a great amount of intelligence and no small amount of cunning and bravery… Where to but you indeed… Ravenclaw would be a good match and no objections?" _he didn't pause for Kurama to say anything, knowing there was no logical protest, _"Well, it better be_—**RAVENCLAW!**" the Hat all but roared aloud.

Taking the hat off himself, he set it on the stool and with a nod to a severe looking Professor McGonagall, he walked over to his House table amid polite clapping and towards Boot's waving arm.

Well, that was one unexpected hurdle crossed neatly.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

"He really _is_ a boy!" Harry announced aloud, to the not-so-muffled snickers of his tablemates.

Ron's jaw hung open, "Blimey hell! I can see why you thought he was a girl, Harry!" He blinked and rubbed his eyes roughly, as if he thought there was an obstruction that tainted his view of the new student.

The redhead walked quickly to sit next to Terry Boot at the Ravenclaws' table, and Harry couldn't help notice just now neat his posture was. It almost rivaled McGonagall's, he stood so perfectly straight.

All was quiet for almost a minute, while Harry stared and Ron started to get over his shock, before Hermione spoke up, sending Ron spiraling back down into it. "Whoa. I had no idea Japanese boys were so pretty."

"Hermione!" Ron was scandalized.

"What? A girl can look!" Hermione protested, crossing her arms over her breast defensively.

Harry simply laughed at that. Good ole Hermione. Leave it to her to notice someone pretty _and_ smart.

Ron just huffed, glaring at her once before looking back at the new student who had turned to look at Boot and was displaying his profile neatly to those on their side of the Gryffindor table. "Bloody hell. He's prettier than Ginny."

"Ron!" Ginny snapped from a few seats down, "He is not prettier than me!"

Seamus laughed, "'E is too prettier than you Gin."

"Watch your back, Finnegan! I'll get you for that comment!" Ginny retorted, but Harry could hear the laugh in her voice. She wasn't serious. Probably.

"Our poor Gin-Gin, bested by a boy." Fred and George chimed in, in tandem.

"Fred! George! Don't make me hex you at the table!" she snapped, throwing a dinner roll at George's head. Fred caught it handily.

"Attention!" McGonagall called across the room, which fell silent within seconds.

Dumbledore got to his feet, his bright and cheerful robe sparkling almost as much as his eyes. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" He called a smile curling his lips, "I'd like to—"

"Hem-hem!" a wide woman in bright pink interrupted.

"Introduce you to our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge." Dumbledore continued, ignoring the noise the woman made, "that will be all, please enjoy your fea—"

"Hem-_hem!_" the woman interrupted again louder, "I would like to say—" she started, cutting off Dumbledore mid-word, and launching into a grand speech about how her presence would change Hogwarts as an institution by the power invested in her by the Ministry of Magic.

The speech lasted nearly twenty minutes, and Harry soon lost track of what she was saying after she had repeated herself thrice and contradicted herself twice.

The speech was cut short by Dumbledore who intervened with, "And that will be all, lets feast!" and then clapped his hands, heralding the appearance of more food than Harry had seen all summer.

"Did anyone else understand what she was saying, or was it just me?" Hermione asked, her brows furrowed and a frown on her face.

"I quit listening." Ron admitted, already reaching for bowls of yams and Sheppard's Pie.

"She lost me when she contradicted herself the first time." Harry answered with his attention more on the food than Hermione's question.

"Boys! You should have been listening! She clearly said that she wouldn't be teaching us anything this year!"

Ron's "There was nothing clear about that," was drowned out by Harry's dismayed cry of "_What?_"

"She's not going to teach us anything!"

"But she's a teacher!" Harry argued, his attention fully on Hermione's visage.

"She just said that we'd be reading our book but not practicing anything, because we won't need it!"

"What about Voldemort? Or the Death Eaters?"

"I don't know!" Hermione almost looked ready to pull out her hair. "But I heard her say that!"

Harry was quiet for a few moments "Well, I heard her contradict herself a few times, maybe she said it wrong?" Harry knew better than to imply that Hermione had heard it wrong.

She sighed, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. "I hope so." She took a deep breath and picked up her fork, "because we _need_ that class."

She pulled over one of the dishes and started moving some turkey off it and onto her own plate while Harry fiddled with his fork, his already meager appetite lost.

Harry gazed down at his too thin fingers, remembering that he really did need to eat something, whether he felt hungry or not. Not having Defense Against the Dark Arts… if Hermione was right, then there wasn't much point to Harry having bothered to come to Hogwarts this year. He _needed _defense to get a leg up for going back into the Makai. He had his textbook tucked safely away in his trunk, maybe he could teach it to himself?

He looked up at his classmates, who were cheerfully chattering away and digging into their food.

No one would defend him adequately, and he needed to be able to fight back. _Needed_ to. Voldemort and Death Eaters or demons, it didn't matter, he'd always be in danger.

Maybe he could get tips on spells from Sirius or Remus over the course of the year? He wondered, already thinking ahead to how he would get around the obstacle.

He reached out and started dishing spoonfuls of food, grabbing a little bit of everything. He'd probably feel sick all night, but Harry was going to do his best to eat all he could.

He froze as another thought popped into his head—maybe he could work on his wind elemental abilities? They were weak and could definitely use some work. _Were_ there wizards with elemental abilities, though? He didn't want to stand out too bad, his Parseltounge was already bad enough, and he almost never used that.

Maybe he could study at nighttime when everyone was sleeping? All he would need was his map and cloak… No, he'd lose too much sleep and everyone would notice. Or… he had a thought, maybe he could close his curtains and claim to be studying and then just go to sleep? Then work later when everyone else was sleeping? It was a thought.

He'd always had trouble sleeping at night anyway…

Right, well. He'd see. He took a few bites of his food.

"Hey, Harry, did you know that Minamino is only the sixth person in the last century that we have had transfer in after first year?"

"Huh?"

"I read about it in Hogwarts, A History last year when we had the tournament students." Hermione perked up, in lecture mode, "The last one was in the nineteen-sixties, from South Africa."

"That's different." Harry acknowledged, putting another bite of food in his mouth.

"Well, the kid was from one of the settlements down there at the time, and was getting bullied at his school."

"Err, you know Hermione," Ron interrupted before Hermione could really get going, "I thought the Japanese were err… More like Cho."

"He is like Cho. Did you see his face?"

"I meant the hair and stuff." Ron clarified, "Black, straight, short. Is that even his real hair? I didn't think hair could be that red."

"I know. Is it even possible for someone who is Japanese to even be a red head?" Harry agreed. He couldn't recall ever seeing a Japanese human with red hair, let alone _that_ red of hair.

"Yes, actually." Hermione jumped into the conversation, her fork resting on her plate. "They most regularly do have really straight black hair and dark eyes. I was surprised to see him. I don't think any of the staff was expecting a red-head." She picked up her fork and then set it down again. "Weren't you looking around? All of the other perfects looked really surprised too."

"No." Ron grumbled, "Why do you think it is that color anyhow?"

"I don't know. Either genetics or magic. He could even be a metro-sexual and thinks it looks hot." She looked at the back of his head and stared at the red hair that tumbled down over his shoulders.

Ron spluttered, "A _what?_ A metro-whosit?"

"Simply put, a guy who likes looking pretty to attract women. Tend to dress well, and sometimes do make-up or style their hair."

"Oh. Like a poof."

"Ron!" Hermione protested.

"Ron!" Harry laughed, reaching for the pitcher of pumpkin juice and pouring himself a glass.

"What? That's pretty much what you said!" Ron exclaimed, aggrieved.

"I said women!" she argued.

"So a poof that likes women!"

"That makes him not a 'poof'!"

"…You just don't want to believe that he might be a nancy-boy, don't you." Ron squinted, his eyes nearly shut as he stared Hermione down.

Harry snorted into his pumpkin juice, "He might just have you there, Hermione."

"Harry!" Hermione cried, scandalized to have both of her friends against her on the subject.

He just grinned, happy to be among friends, and put another bite of food in his mouth.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

|Drops fic for readers and runs as if her life depends on it, shouting back "Harry_ finally_ got off the TRAIN!"|

Oh, and you all should thank Katreal for helping me pry Harry off the train, without her questions and "*prod* fic?"s through messager, this chapter may not have been posted until next year. Katreal is a very helpful crowbar-because she asks _question_s. anyone else have any questions? I guarantee they make me write faster, though any answer I might have for your question could very well be "Err, do you really wan to know? 'Cause I'll be answering that later..."


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